


game, set, and love

by rexmyeon



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bickering, M/M, Minor Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Kim Jongin | Kai, Strangers to Lovers, Tennis, dealing with the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 41,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28195947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexmyeon/pseuds/rexmyeon
Summary: Junmyeon is determined to climb the steep mountain his life put up in front of him, but when he meets a certain tennis instructor on the way to the top, he starts wondering if the path he's chosen is the right one.
Relationships: Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Oh Sehun
Comments: 9
Kudos: 48
Collections: Starry Suho Fest (R1)





	game, set, and love

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a part of the Starry Suho Fest, written based on a self-prompt.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** don't let the tennis tag discourage you, there's absolutely no need to know anything about it to enjoy the fic~

The sun is casting burning rays, almost setting the ground on pure fire with the way the overwhelming heat is spreading in the air lazily, dripping all over like thick, golden honey. 

Despite the broiling weather, the city pulsates with life, full of people running around, trying to find a place to hide, even for a short while. Among the rush one man is standing out, unmoving in the centre of the wide pavement, waiting, impatiently tapping his foot against the concrete, creating a static part of the forever flowing landscape.

The ID placed around his neck with a prominent _Kim Junmyeon_ written on it annoyingly irritates his nape when he tilts his head back, throws a glance at the baby blue sky, frowning at the ablaze star as if his discontent would make it dissipate.  
  
His tailored suit sticks to his body like a second skin, the collar of his perfectly white shirt completely loosened, the elegant silk tie in tow. Sweat is sliding all over his toned back in trickles, unpleasantly gathering on the rim of his creased slacks. Damn his office attire and the stupid dress code. 

After spending a few scorching minutes outside, Junmyeon can even feel his feet sweating in long cotton socks, flinching at the sensation, nearly disgusted with himself. He desires nothing more than to rip his clothes off and finally wear something according to the weather.

Everyone around is in the same situation as him, and yet he appears to be more annoyed than any other person, anxiously looking out for somebody among the crowd. That's simply because Junmyeon genuinely hates summer.  
  
The hustle and bustle of city masses drenched in saltiness, huffing in annoyance, desperately gulping water and fanning themselves with whatever came in handy depicts his worst nightmare. Junmyeon has never been fond of crowds, but they're especially unpleasant in the summer.

For the whole summertime the most prominent thought constantly lingering on his mind is for this misery to end, but since he can't control the weather, he simply wishes to hide in the confines of his cubicle, in the small but pleasantly cold space, engulfed in the waves of salvation coming from the air con.  
  
This time of the year is his personal nightmare, but not the worst one. The only thing Junmyeon seems to hate more than the hot weather is tardiness. To his misfortune, Do Kyungsoo is the most unpunctual man he has ever had the pleasure to know.

"You're late even more than usually," Junmyeon deadpans with pursed brows, glancing at the clock on the screen of his phone when his friend _finally_ emerges from around the corner.

"Good to see you too, Jun. Ready to go?" Kyungsoo pants, breathing heavily, as he was probably running.

Junmyeon doesn’t want to sound more miffed than he already is, so he keeps to himself that he has been ready since he woke up this morning, overly excited for Tuesdays, as usual. That day of the week equals tennis meetings with his best friend Kyungsoo - a hint of calm, of much needed relaxation on the outskirts of the loud and busy city.

Ever since Junmyeon’s youngest years, he has been a huge fan of tennis, taking after his father, an avid sport enthusiast. He is lucky, because his parents have always had money, and incipiently eagerness, to provide necessary conditions for their son to learn how to play. That's why, more or less twenty years later, Junmyeon can proudly admit he is exceptionally good at hitting the balls on the court.

He would have probably even had a chance to become a professional tennis player at some point, if not for the divorce of his parents, resulting in Junmyeon staying with his mother. The woman pushed him into learning how to play the piano instead, too peeved at her husband to let her one and only precious son continue the sports madness.   
  
It was only about revenge. About petty little things. Junmyeon’s mother had always known he didn't want to be near any musical instrument. It was _her_ dream, not Junmyeon's. The decision to pursue piano was like a sharp dagger stuck straight into his chest, twisting and digging deeper with every plea of mercy rejected by the stubborn parent.

Defeated in the battle against his mother, Junmyeon had been counting on his father’s support, but after the stormy split of the marriage, the man proceeded to live his own life with his new family, not interested in his first-born anymore.

Just like that, Junmyeon’s tennis fantasies had fallen into pieces.

It significantly took its toll on Junmyeon, who had been constantly living in a dream of becoming the best, a figure his father could be proud of, a figure to admire. Something cracked in him then. Absolutely miserable, devastated after dropping his dreams into the pit of nothingness, he hid all of the tennis stuff he owned and vowed to never put his hands on it again, becoming rather bitter in the wake of his life events, not getting on well with his mother, completely forgetting his father's existence. 

The truth wounded him. Junmyeon's family had never cared enough to pay attention to his needs, his dreams, his _feelings._ Both his mother and father had destroyed his prospective future, never respecting him and his own decisions. He had never, ever, been _the best_. Not even to his own parents.

When years later Junmyeon was moving out for the sake of the university, he laid his hands on the abandoned tennis equipment, somehow feeling excited at the discovery. He came to a tough decision to leave it at the bottom of his wardrobe then, just as he was trying to leave his past behind, but after making his first money working in a small shop close to his dorm, the first thing he bought was a decent tennis racket. It followed with purchasing more and more, collecting a whole tennis set every time Junmyeon could spare some cash.

It felt as if he reborned, a phoenix resurfaced from the ashes, not as strong as before the fall, but slowly regaining vitality, the will to live, to fight for the better tomorrow. The situation was weirdly unfamiliar, terrifying, leaving a trace of anxiety, but also a silver of excitement and pride.

After years of playing the piano, weary of pressing the keys, Junmyeon had given tennis another chance, pressing his shoes into the clay surface of the court instead. He had given _himself_ another chance. And there he is - a stressed office worker with flaming passion for hitting the ball with a racket, the only thing giving him strength to endure the nuisance of his mundane job and even more boresome life.

Everything seemed to go well. Junmyeon had been trying to move on, though very slowly, hesitantly. He realized with passing time that he had no other choice. If he wanted to have a decent future, ha had to deal with his past.  
  
And finally his universe regained stability, very wobbly and easy to be destroyed, but sufficient. Finally, after a long time, the sunshine eventually came through when the storm was long gone, even though Junmyeon couldn’t convince himself to look for it. He could notice it only when it appeared straight before his eyes, and it did, in many forms, the most significant one being a kind, quirky human being.

In the whole bleakness of the uneventful ordinariness, Junmyeon found Kyungsoo. They have known each other since the very first day of Junmyeon's first serious job at the consulting company, immediately finding a common ground. It only got better with passing days spent together. As soon as it has been unveiled that Kyungsoo is also fond of tennis, Junmyeon was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. And so they have become bonded for a lifetime. 

Junmyeon will always remember the day when Kyungsoo dragged him to the tennis club for the first time. He has already known back then that it would be his comfort place, his shrine of some sort, a perfect spot to forget about everything that bothers him. A spot to reach catharsis.

He wasn’t wrong in the slightest.

By the time the two friends reach the courts on the typical, sun-dappled Tuesday afternoon, both of them are already so worn out it seems they are well after the training.  
  
The traffic was unusually bothersome, all because _someone_ couldn’t come on time to avoid the rush hours. Junmyeon mentions that to his friend more than once on the way, and one more time at the club, but it’s like talking to a wall. Kyungsoo appears unusually tired, exasperatedly peeking at Junmyeon eagerly stomping to the dressing room to change his clothes.

It’s Junmyeon’s world. Junmyeon’s salvation. The court, clay sticking to his shoes, sound of the bouncy balls hitting the ground. It's everything to him. Everything he has always wanted, but in the end couldn’t really have.

Junmyeon sighs, throwing his slacks into the locker, feeling the relief washing over him. He’s free. Finally. Nothing will ever feel better than getting rid of anything reminding him of his current life. Tennis gives him that, and even more. Tennis gives his existence a meaning.

Kyungsoo keeps talking about something unimportant, and soon they are both dressed in their polo shirts and shorts, hyper, ready to start the game. At least in Junmyeon's eyes. 

"How can you be so full of energy? It's so hot my limbs are melting," Kyungsoo whines, wiping off some sweat from his forehead.

Junmyeon simply shrugs, takes a bite of the energy bar, his favourite raspberry flavor, "It's our tennis day, Soo. Wouldn't miss it even if the world was ending."  
  
Kyungsoo snorts at that, shaking his head. He passes Junmyeon to finally step onto the court, lightly clasping his hand on his friend’s shoulder, pure amusement emanating from the simple yet fond gesture that makes Junmyeon smile coyly.  
  
It’s Tennis Day, so nothing could go wrong. _Nothing._

🎾

Apparently the fact that it’s Tuesday afternoon, the time reserved for relaxation and lack of any stress whatsoever, still isn’t enough to convince the universe to be at least a bit more merciful after drowning the city in the heat wave.

 _Everything_ is wrong.

Kyungsoo and Junmyeon are warming up on the burning court, barely bearing with the extraordinary hotness, when Minseok joins them.

The rather short man with catlike eyes and joyful smile is an acquaintance they met quite some time ago, at the beginning of their visits to the tennis club. They weren't looking for any company other than themselves during their leisure time, but the universe had different plans for both of them.

It's not a bad situation per se. Kyungsoo is fond of their tennis acquaintance, and Junmyeon likes Minseok as well, not as much as Kyungsoo, but enough to tolerate him. Their relationship remains within the courts, and maybe it's for the better, because most of the time Junmyeon cannot stand the latter's laugh.  
  
The sound of it especially annoys him when he is strenuously trying to be focused. During the game Junmyeon needs to hear _only_ the sound of the ball bouncing off the ground, entwined with his shallow breaths. A habit helping him give a hundred and ten percent every time. 

Unfortunately, Minseok tends to laugh _a lot._ Mostly because he is always accompanied by his very talkative younger friend, a tennis instructor named Jongin. The two are literally inseparable. No one knows how they became friends in the first place, but it was probably a matter of Jongin's more open personality, letting the loud man in, unlike Junmyeon's case.

Being tall, tanned, and muscular, Minseok’s sparring partner happens to be Kyungsoo's love interest as well. Junmyeon is almost awfully sure that the usually whining about the weather conditions Kyungsoo agrees to their training in the full summer sun only to steal glances at the Adonis, astounded by his ethereal looks. 

Junmyeon openly calls it _puppy love_ , gaining a nudge in his ribs every time he does it in Kyungsoo's presence. At the same time he knows that his friend wants it to be serious. Probably they both do.  
  
Even if he is amusingly crossed with Kyungsoo, he rolls his eyes at the two lovebirds with a subtle smile whenever they share longing stares across the court. He can’t help anything that happens between them. Besides, Kyungsoo deserves to give this opportunity a try.

Junmyeon himself isn't particularly keen on love. He has not experienced it much during his whole life, thus he is used to the lack of any endearment, not even allowing his heart to flutter, or butterflies to occupy his stomach. It simply isn’t worth the deal.  
  
People come and go, utter words that don’t mean a thing, tell they will stay, but they never do. Junmyeon doesn't want them to stay anyway. Sometimes he needs closure, but it's no more than a night, no more than to remind himself he's still alive, and that there's something other than tennis that's able to bring him pleasure. Junmyeon is a human being, after all.

A part of his very rarely encountered warm feelings is intended for Kyungsoo, but the man is like a brother to him, so Junmyeon indefinitely tries to convince himself this is a different case.  
  
Loving is so different than hating, which seems inexplicably easy. You dislike something deeply, and you can already consider it hate, somewhere at the bottom of you heart. But it’s hard to name anything as love. Even his close, brotherly relationship with the only person in this world that truly cares about him.

Kyungsoo, on the other hand, needs love. The true, tender, romantic one. Something Junmyeon can’t offer. Will never be able to. Maybe that's why he indulges Kyungsoo in his flirtatious actions towards Jongin, turning a blind eye on them most of the time. To give his friend a chance that Junmyeon himself will probably never get.

The significantly noticeable presence of Minseok, a sign of meeting Jongin as well, forces Junmyeon to unwillingly prepare himself for romantic drama-like scenes, as usual, but it appears there's a shift in the situation. 

They most definitely didn’t expect anything special from that day apart from the sunny fire falling from the sky, yet it seems different in every aspect. This afternoon Minseok surprises the two, appearing with someone else by his side. Someone as tall and astonishingly good looking as Jongin. 

Seeing the two from afar, Junmyeon would even assume Minseok’s companion is his best friend's soon-to-be lover, but when they come closer, it's obvious that's someone else. This man has hair in the color of dark copper, considerably distinct from Jongin’s ashy one, glistening slightly in the sunlight.

Kyungsoo's shoulders shrink as the excitement leaves him. Junmyeon would lie if he admitted he doesn’t feel sheer relief knowing that his friend will be finally utterly focused on their practice for a change. Kyungsoo would never look at any other man that’s not Kim Jongin.

"Hi, guys," Junmyeon unconsciously winces at Minseok's voice accompanied by the loud laughter. "You better wear a hat or something, so you won't get a heatstroke. I wouldn't want my favourite tennis friends to get hurt." 

"Aye aye, captain," Kyungsoo answers happily, theatrically adjusting his favourite white Nike cap. 

Minseok puts his thumbs up in appreciation, at the same time staring at Junmyeon with disapproval, noticing the lack of anything on his head. Junmyeon simply waves the man off, practically ignoring him, directing his attention to the new addition to their somewhat bizarre clique with an expectant raise of his eyebrow.

"Oh, where are my manners," Minseok says, gently pushing his partner to the front, offering his famous, widest smile. "Kyungsoo, Junmyeon, this is Sehun. He is a new instructor at the club and _the best_ player I've ever seen. The king of the court!"

Curious eyes flick to the tennis instructor, focusing solely on him, visibly making him flustered. Junmyeon doesn’t like the shift in the situation. Without further ado, he sizes Sehun up, _very_ intently.

The man is considerably taller than him, even taller than Jongin, whom Junmyeon has always considered a giant. His physique is _acceptable,_ all long legs and slim form, complimented by body proportions that are admittedly _to die for_.  
  
Sehun's demeanor is a bit guarded, judging by the way his heavenly wide shoulders tense under the polo shirt at the sudden wave of attention, making him look quite intimidating, especially with his sharp facial features, complimented by deeply brown, hypnotizing eyes, hidden underneath two, perfectly shaped brows.  
  
The cherry on top, immediately drawing attenion, are intricately shaped pink lips, almost turning the instructor into the perfect, sculpture-like figure.

Unexpectedly, something unpleasantly churns in Junmyeon's stomach. Sehun seems to be a firm young man, stoic, reserved, but with a boyish spark. Intriguing. Definitely way better looking than him.

The eerie veneer cracks the moment Sehun laughs, a deep, warm voice unveiling a row of perfectly white teeth. The instructor looks amused by Minseok's antics, smiling softly, masking the firmness with the blanket of glee. His gestures show humility, maybe even a hint of embarrassment, and Junmyeon almost grunts at the way the tallest of the group averts his gaze to the ground, fiddling with his long fingers.

Sehun being the best player? _This man?_ Over his dead body. 

Everybody in the club ought to know that, besides professional players, no one else could compare to Junmyeon, at least not in terms of his impeccable technique. Not even those so-called instructors. Especially not _this one._

"Hi, king. I'm Kyungsoo," Junmyeon's friend chimes in, shaking Sehun's hand, a friendly smile plastered on his face. 

Sehun grins vibrantly, and suddenly it becomes even warmer around, every first thought about the newly encountered cold persona evaporating into thin air. Junmyeon feels dumbfounded, not able to stand the real-life comedy taking place in front of him, finally letting out a snort, coughing feverishly. _King, really?_

Apparently his actions weren't as slick as he thought, because his behaviour meets with Kyungsoo's scolding gaze and Sehun's furrowed brows. Junmyeon maintains his uncontrollable fake laugh for a while, gaining an even more confused look from the young instructor.

Minseok, oblivious to the whole scene, stands closer to Sehun, nervously looking around, "Junmyeon, you okay?"

Noticing the bafflement on Minseok's face, Junmyeon stops, having some mercy after all. Sehun’s gaze is all over him now, inflaming a pit of angry fire in his smaller body. 

That response means only one thing. They definitely won’t become friends.

"Yeah, yeah, the air is just too dry today," Junmyeon snarls, picking up his racket. "Let's play. Wanna see _the king_ in action."

Junmyeon moves to his side of the court, not forgetting to throw Sehun a challenging look. The instructor holds it bravely, seemingly not affected by the undeniably childish attitude, cheerfully chatting with Minseok.

Somewhere in the background of the silent battle of gazes, Kyungsoo follows his friend, anxiously scuffing his feet against the clay. Everything feels wrong in the new situation. Kyungsoo knows it first-hand. When Junmyeon gets into his competitive mode, _nothing_ could stop him. It’s going to be a tough afternoon.

They begin the sparring, Junmyeon and Kyungsoo on one court, Minseok and Sehun on another, just to the right of them. What seems like a friendly match, in reality is a fierce competition between the two ornery men. 

Sehun's behaviour changes drastically in a blink of an eye as soon as his racket hits the first ball. The taller man didn't initially have plans to take the obvious challenge, however seeing Junmyeon's tactics, he visibly couldn't help himself, settling on showing the shorter one where his place is, annoyed at being treated like a mockery. 

It gets obvious when the instructor’s gaze becomes empty. The need to compete is stronger than anything else. His moves are fluid, yet on the edge of furious stiffness as his breath quickens, ragged, caged in the heaving chest.  
  
Junmyeon enjoys putting Sehun in that state, maybe a little bit _too much,_ gloating over being the sole reason for disrupting the pristine persona. Everything seems to go according to his plan. Well, almost. The only, quite serious problem, is that he has brought the innocent Kyungsoo to the living hell at the same time.

Kyungsoo is used to Junmyeon's strong, precise hits, albeit this time his friend puts even more force into them, more than necessary. The man is trying his best, both in receiving the balls well and calming Junmyeon down, but to no avail. Almost like a tennis monster has crawled under Junmyeon’s skin, seizing utter control over his body and mind, messing with the game as if it takes place in a kaleidoscope, ever-changing and unpredictable.

On the other side of the courts, Sehun's partner isn't in any better situation. Minseok plays tennis only for recreational purposes, so the firm blows of the instructor knock him out of his feet. Fortunately Sehun notices that after a while, a bit ashamed of his actions, an apologizing smile crossing his face as he gives up on his sudden aggressiveness. 

On the contrary to Sehun’s humble expression, a proud grin slips over Junmyeon’s lips at the view of the taller man adjusting to Minseok's pace by hitting the ball slowly, precisely, drearily. This court can belong only to one tennis master, and it certainly won't be Sehun.

Junmyeon hates losing almost as much as being late, but he can’t help feeling like something is wrong. Despite the overwhelming satisfaction and pride, his passionate demonstration of his skills has become rather tiresome, not to say exhausting.  
  
Beads of sweat mixed with the blinding sunlight are getting to his dark, focused eyes too quickly, not able to be gathered with his wristband anymore, covering his view. At a slack pace, his focus on the game is faltering. Junmyeon has been observing his rival since the beginning, but after some time he catches himself peeking at Sehun maybe a little bit too often, the side profile of the man oddly hazy in his peripheral vision.

When it’s clear that the other two players have already finished the game, Junmyeon stubbornly stays in the spotlight, grabs a chance to show the younger instructor what he is capable of, even though Kyungsoo almost begs him to stop. But he can't give up, won't give up this time, won’t _ever_ give up. A perfect serve, a few good forehands, and Sehun will see the _real_ king.

His hands start shaking, though, and his legs seem wooden, numbness seeping into his flagging limbs. The sun is burning his skin, making his mind and vision blurry, hitting him like a ton of bricks. Not to mention Sehun's eyes, filled with something bitter instead of the expected awe, constantly sticking to Junmyeon's neck, following his moves, certainly not easing the building up tension.

Suddenly Junmyeon cannot breathe, as if all the precious oxygen left his body, refusing to come back when he inhales. His vision consists of a mosaic of confusing shapes, and for a brief moment he even struggles to receive any outer sounds, concentrated on his own heartbeat, the sound throbbing loudly in his head, curling in the deepest corners of his tingly body. 

After what feels like eternity, Junmyeon hears a loud, muffled shriek. Someone shouts his name. He wants to answer, wants to scream his lungs out, but his knees give up, pulling him to the ground, hard, weirdly soothing. 

The last thing keeping him on the verge of consciousness is a blur of a tall shadow looming over him, a feather light touch on his shoulders, an unfamiliar voice ringing in his ears. It doesn't last long, as he falls into the chasm, losing himself to the darkness enveloping him in its depth.   
  
Everything becomes a pool of black then, and Junmyeon feels at peace when mind recedes into silence, cold, cradling him close.

🎾

"I haven't seen you thanking Sehun." 

Junmyeon perks his head from the files he is reading, automatically turning it into the direction where his friend's voice comes from. Kyungsoo is leaning on the edge of Junmyeon's cubicle, piercing him with his big eyes, expressionless as ever.

"Well, that's because I haven't thanked him," 

“Well, then you should." 

Junmyeon smirks, letting out an exasperated sigh as he leans back on his swivel chair. 

The whole situation on the court took place two weeks ago, so he has already forgotten about the unpleasant incident, multiple headaches it gave him, and litres of water he had to drink afraid of the dehydration. Kyungsoo, on the other hand, no.

No matter how hard Junmyeon tries to banish the tennis instructor from his mind, his friend is always there to remind him about his existence. He has heard the story of Sehun's quick reaction and remarkable calmness at least ten times by now. _T_ _he king_ has become the knight in the shining armour as well. _Great._

"And why is that?" Junmyeon grumbles through his teeth, gritted so tightly the words barely make it out coherent.

"Maybe because he literally saved you? You fainted there!” Kyungsoo animatedly gestures with his hands, coming closer to Junmyeon’s desk, smacking his lips with disapproval. “Sehun lifted you off the ground when you were unconscious for too long. It was scary. The ambulance was about to come in almost an hour for some reason, so he carried you to your car, and I drove us to the hospital. Believe me, you're heavy with all those muscles of yours, I wouldn't do that if not for him."

Junmyeon fixes Kyungsoo with a stare, a tiny frown creasing his forehead. His weight seems most certainly perfect, so does his health, he has been _profoundly_ taking care of it for years, but that isn't the main point here. The description of Sehun's rescue is already engraved in his mind, deeply and painfully. No need to hear it countless times, yet it always comes back like a boomerang. Kyungsoo in tow.

Despite seeing red, Junmyeon smiles, too sweetly, artificially. He cannot show that the instructor got under his skin.

"He didn't have to do this. No one asked him to," he says, folding his hands behind his head, maybe a tad bit too nonchalantly. "I just lost balance and the heat got to me, but I would have been fine."

It’s Kyungsoo's turn to heave a sigh, tired, sounding almost defeated.

"Thank him. Or else I won’t play tennis with you anymore."

Junmyeon grins snidely, "You will. Can't believe you could give up on drooling over Jongin."

Kyungsoo’s face is suddenly awash with bright pink as he grabs the very first pen found close at hand and throws it at his friend. Junmyeon lets it fall to the ground loosely after the object hollowly hits his chest.

"I'm— Jongin— Shut up, Junmyeon."

Junmyeon's smile gets even wider than before.

🎾

It takes him a whole week to devise a plan to confront Sehun. 

At first Junmyeon had no intention to initiate any sort of conversation with the instructor, yet was somehow forced by Kyungsoo shooting daggers at him and ceasing to make him coffee during the long hours spent in the office. And for Junmyeon it's unacceptable, because he drinks only coffee prepared by his best friend, so suffering without the very much needed caffeine shot couldn't even be considered.

Left without a choice, Junmyeon promises Kyungsoo he will talk to Sehun. After struggling a lot, he has managed to prepare a whole speech in his mind, consisting of three sentences rich with nonsense, and only two meaningful words in the form of _thank you_ , which certainly will be enough. Short and effective.

When he finally feels ready to face his nemesis, Sehun isn't present at the tennis club on Tuesday.

Even if Junmyeon can't help the relief washing over him, at the same time the annoyance blooms in him like a poisoned flower, putting down the roots, soon to be digging so deep they will never be able to be removed, clenching his nerves tightly in their deadly embrace. Sehun apparently does _everything_ to make Junmyeon's life even more complicated than it already is.

If that isn't enough, Junmyeon, wholly by accident, overhears a conversation of two random men while showering after the training. They cannot stop talking about the new instructor and his methods of teaching allegedly being the best among all the staff at the club, their voices hushed and filled with excitement and awe. Junmyeon snorts silently, not quite interested in their empty words, but the next piece of information makes his blood boil. 

Someone dares to name Sehun a born player. A natural talent. _The best of the best_. That Junmyeon couldn't stand. Never. No one has ever named _him_ that way, yet some younger, lanky man could brag about it left and right? Unbelievable.

Junmyeon makes a very important decision then. Before he leaves, he makes sure to mark his presence in the dressing room by clearing his throat loudly and closing the door to his locker with a loud thud, at which his company gets silent. He passes the men without sparing them a glance.

His mind is filled with one, persistent thought only, stronger than any other, overpowering common sense. Junmyeon is absolutely sure. There’s no space for amiability in the sports competition. Not for him. 

He gives up on the idea of ever thanking the instructor. Should he bow down to Sehun for a one-time act of mercy, when the younger man is insidiously stealing _his_ titles that Junmyeon has been working so hard for? The instructor could whistle for it.

He will show Sehun the true game.

🎾

Next Tuesday Junmyeon forgets to take the rackets from his apartment. 

He has no clue how it happens, since they are always in their special bag, in the usual place close to his briefcase, so he wouldn’t miss out on grabbing them hurriedly while leaving his apartment. Every evening, before going to sleep, Junmyeon checks if everything is prepared. He is sure he saw the bag in the hall before dozing off. Or maybe not?

The workday was a nightmare, lots of documents, numbers, shouting, and stressed people surrounding him, and he was tired to the point he didn’t even take a shower after coming back home, simply slipped on some sweatpants and buried himself under the soft duvet. There was no time to care about his hygiene, but he _certainly_ prepared his rackets.

Apparently even the meticulous preparation couldn't beat his fuzzy morning mind at times. Maybe if he skipped the shower again in the morning and didn't sleep in, he would have more time to check if he had everything with him instead of running late. Priorities matter.

Despite trying to keep composure, Junmyeon is fussing over his clumsiness for the whole eight hours of his office job. He almost pulls all the hair out of his head telling Kyungsoo about his real-life tragedy, casting fingers through his brown, soft strands a little bit too roughly.

"Please, can I borrow one of yours, Soo?" 

"You mean my racket?" Kyungsoo asks, raising one of his eyebrows curiously.

Junmyeon only nods at the question.

"Jun, you know that I always have only one with me. Since that one time I’ve shut the car door on my bag and ruined all three of my tennis rackets, I don't want to take a risk."

Junmyeon remembers that too well. It was a disaster for the two of them. Still, at this moment he wishes Kyungsoo wasn’t acting _that_ cautiously, so he would have something, anything, to play with.

"I need to have a tennis racket in order to play. I _need_ to practice more," Junmyeon whines, pouting.

Kyungsoo sighs with that particular timbre of his voice, sounding at most as if he was annoyed at a cute puppy nibbling on his favourite shoes. He pats Junmyeon's head, petting him fondly, something that always soothes all the tingling nerves in his friend's system. Junmyeon's body relaxes against the touch, then tenses again when he reminds himself where they are.

Junmyeon, fearful of anyone noticing their unexpected act of closure, responds with an angry flick, swatting at Kyungsoo's hand, not eager to fix his hair afterwards, and most of all deal with all the looks from their co-workers. Kyungsoo ignores Junmyeon's temper, grabbing his packed lunch from the table with a small shrug of his shoulders.

"Don’t be dramatic. They have plenty at the club. Ask for one and you will get it."

Junmyeon's mouth falls open in disbelief. Kyungsoo stops eating halfway into devouring his sandwich, sharing a quizzical look with his best friend.

"You know I have to play using trusted equipment. I can't use the one that has been touched by many inexperienced hands," Junmyeon almost mewls, indignant at the suggestion.

Kyungsoo’s loud and unexpected laughter turns the attention of the whole cafeteria on them. That does it for not drawing prying eyes.

"Jun, just take a racket and play. It's not a big deal,” Kyungsoo almost chokes on his giggles, spluttering crumbs of bread everywhere.

Junmyeon rolls his eyes. It _is_ a big deal. 

He can't defeat Sehun using mediocre rackets. That would be highly unprofessional of him. The best tennis players are able to play with anything, that's right, but he needs _all_ he can to emphasize his already perfected skills and show his best side.

Junmyeon wants to say more, but Kyungsoo’s cheeks are filled with food to the brim, a sign his friend doesn’t want to continue the dispute. Neither does Junmyeon, to be honest. He would definitely throw a tantrum, and they don't need any more attention from their colleagues. People are already spreading rumours that they act as if they're married and raise a bunch of cats together.  
  
What a shame Junmyeon is a dog person. And he definitely doesn't have plans to get married, certainly not to Kyungsoo.

The further discussion is dropped for the sake of their lunch break, although Junmyeon still cannot cease internally scolding himself for being so absent-minded and forgetting the most important thing, his charm, his favourite tennis racket.

They visit the courts later, after their work, on another warm, suffocating summer afternoon. Junmyeon is acting like a fussy kid, sulking, being reluctant to even change his clothes. He’s ashamed and unwilling to embarrass himself in any way, but Kyungsoo somehow manages to force him to ask for a racket in the club reception, literally pushing him at the counter, startling the man standing on the other side of it. 

Junmyeon notices shining eyes, practically smiling at him, inviting and warm, but even that doesn't help with his sudden stress. The pervasive silence is overwhelming, even more when Kyungsoo pats him on the back, nodding curtly to the club staff and simply walking away before Junmyeon can even blink.

"Junmyeon. How can I help you?" a friendly voice breaks the stiffness in the air, startling him.

"Yixing. Hi. I was w-wondering," Junmyeon stutters, even if he usually speaks with confidence. "Do you have some spare tennis rackets? Didn't take mine today."

Yixing smiles at him beautifully, affectionately, almost sugary, forcing Junmyeon's already quivering body to send even more shivers onto the surface of his skin. His throat is so tight he can’t breathe, the expectation too hard on his chest, pinning him to the invisible wall.

"Sure. Hope you don’t mind that most of them are a little bit used. The boss hasn't bought new ones for a while,” Yixing’s smile turns a bit bitter. “I'll find you something nice, okay? The best one we have. Don't worry."

Junmyeon clears his throat uncomfortably, urging himself to speak, "T-Thanks. That will do," he simply nods.

The club staff doesn't move from his spot, though, suddenly frozen with the same blinding smile plastered on his face. Junmyeon is caught off guard, but after a short while he notices the very reason for the confusion. The mysterious glint in Yixing's eyes focused on another person means nothing but trouble. 

Unexpectedly, they are no longer alone, graced with the presence of a tennis instructor who doesn't even pay attention to them, busy with carrying boxes full of water bottles and setting them carefully on the floor. Most likely he would continue his task, much to Junmyeon’s relief, if not for Yixing. Of course, the other man couldn't suppress himself from accosting his co-worker.

The day couldn't be worse. Sehun is here, and Junmyeon doesn't even have his lucky racket with him.

"I was just thinking about you, Sehun!" Yixing exclaims, too excited for Junmyeon's liking, always cheerful beyond imagination.

Sehun halts, turning his gaze away from the boxes, directing it at Yixing only, but briefly glaring at Junmyeon, uninterested.

"Do you need me for something, Yixing? I'm kinda busy," the instructor says.

"Yeah, well, we have a little emergency here, but firstly... do you two know each other already?" Yixing asks, pointing at Junmyeon with a flick of his head.

Junmyeon averts his gaze from Sehun, not even realizing he was staring at him, and shoots Yixing a glance full of surprise. Sehun the Savior apparently isn’t the one to boast about his famous rescue mission. Taking that into account, Junmyeon could deny knowing the tennis instructor. A perfect opportunity to piss off the younger man.  
  
On the other hand, Junmyeon needs the racket as soon as possible, so he isn't eager to listen to the same introduction of _the king_ yet again. Well, if he had to hear it one more time, or even worse - describe Sehun’s great deeds himself, he would start playing the piano again.

The young tennis instructor is visibly not happy for being interrupted, which isn't a good sign, so before Sehun could open his mouth, Junmyeon lets his words flow, a little bit too rowdy, yet not as confident as he would like, flashing his best fake smile. An innocent lie in front of Yixing couldn't be bad.

"Of course, we know each other quite well," Junmyeon says confidently.

Sehun raises his brow at that, though doesn't say anything. Fortunately.

Yixing certainly is not aware of the tension, beaming with happiness, glancing between the two, "Great. I was about to give Junmyeon one of the spare rackets, but since you're here Sehun, maybe you could give him one of yours?"

Sehun looks at Yixing with confusion draping his face, straightening his body, looking even taller this way. Junmyeon seems no less dumbfounded as well. He had to mishear something.

No. It couldn’t be. _Not this..._

"W-What? No need to," the shortest stutters out silently, panic evident in his posture.

Both men turn a deaf ear on him. Junmyeon tries to protest, nudging Yixing's arm with his elbow in a silent plea, but the staff shrugs it off, still smiling as if nothing happened.

Junmyeon groans silently, letting the men solve the matter between them, stepping away. This is a horror. A nightmare of some sort. What a pity he is not able to turn back time, or maybe at least disappear, preferably deep underneath the ground. He is supposed to hold Sehun's tennis racket in his golden hands. What a _disgrace_. 

Not bothering to pretend anymore, Junmyeon looks the younger instructor straight into the eyes, anger filling his veins. Sehun appears apathetic, but his features wear a hint of annoyance.

"I could, but why?" the youngest says, crossing his arms.

Yixing blinks a few times, clearly confused with Sehun's hesitance.  
  
"Junmyeon is a special member of our club. He comes here only once a week, so he should use the time well, not being bothered by anything," Yixing's hand cautiously grips Junmyeon's forearm, dragging him closer. "Don't worry, he's really good, so he will take great care of your equipment."

As soon as Junmyeon hears Yixing’s praise, his ego is too satisfied to not let him raise the corners of his lips in pure contentment, and he even forgets about the sudden closure. Maybe calling him only _really good_ isn't his biggest dream, but he hopes Sehun receives the message.

The instructor's expression is unreadable as his cold and emotionless eyes trace Yixing's hand grabbing Junmyeon, then wander to the shorter’s eyes. One doesn't have to be a seer to guess the man isn't ecstatic. No wonder. Lending your own tennis racket seems like entrusting someone with your baby. And he and Junmyeon are akin to enemies, after all.

The silence drags mercilessly, until Sehun brushes his fingers through his sleek hair, sighing deeply, finally letting the voice leave his clasped lips.

" _Fine_. Come with me," the instructor grinds out, gesturing at Junmyeon.

The touch on his arm disappears, only Yixing's warm smile left now, the encouraging one that Junmyeon catches with his eye when he mouths a quick _thank you_ , reluctantly following Sehun, revelling in the view of the younger man drowning in aggravation. 

After a short while Junmyeon gets the long expected tennis racket in his hands, sparing it a quick glance when Sehun hands in to him unwillingly. He decides to try to appear unimpressed, but as soon as his eyes travel along the thing examining it, he swallows harshly. It won’t be easy to pretend. The racket is… _something._

The equipment is in a perfect state, fitting well into his neat palm, sitting heavy on his heart. Undeniably a beautiful creation. Had it not been Sehun's possession, he would even marvel at how such a simple thing could be perfectly shaped, as if carved just for him.

Junmyeon completely loses the track of time, raving about the racket wordlessly, completely forgetting he is in the room with Sehun, so when he hears the other man moving around, it almost causes him a heart attack. Sehun is peering down at him, expectantly, stone cold, lacking any emotion, his lips forming a stiff line.

"Nice racket," the small one manages to stutter out.

"I know."

"Uh. Yeah. I'll give it back later," Junmyeon answers with a sharp, tight nod, spinning around, ready to walk away.  
  
Rapidly stiffening after hearing a silent, dry chuckle behind his back, Junmyeon stops himself from turning around fully and shoots a quick look over his shoulder, mustering up all the will not to knock the smirk off Sehun's lips. His eyes close on their own, and he takes a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself. Being in one room with an enemy for too long isn't a healthy option. The air becomes too dense. 

"First you claim you know me without even introducing yourself properly, and now you can't even say _thank you_? Not for the first time, anyway," the instructor scoffs. “Well? Nothing to say?”

Junmyeon grits his teeth, grinding them furiously. He almost, _almost_ bites back, almost loses his quite composed demeanor, yet refrains from that. Barely.   
  
It’s not the time nor place for that, so the shorter man ignores his boiling feelings and marches out of the room straight onto the court, not trusting himself enough to confront Sehun without meeting his fist with the disgruntled expression on the instructor’s face.

🎾

Junmyeon officially adds that particular Tennis Tuesday to the list of the things he hates the most.

He thought the one when he met Sehun for the first time was bad, but _this_ is even worse. Everything seems to annoy him more with every passing minute. Even his friend is against him today. 

Do Kyungsoo has to be lovey-dovey the very day Junmyeon is in the middle of his hopeless crisis. Ignoring the misery of his friend, Kyungsoo decided to try and make a move on Jongin, asking him for some useful tips, even though his tennis skills are _fine._  
  
The lovebirds are standing close to each other, Jongin's hands gently touching Kyungsoo's under the pretense of showing him how to get a good grip on the racket, and the whole situation radiates strong _do not disturb_ energy.

Junmyeon sighs. He’s left on his own, as always. 

The only reasonable choice is to wait, sitting on the bench dumbly, watching the others struggle on the courts. It’s unnerving, though he can at least observe the players, imagining if that were him, he would make the same moves a hundred times better. 

Minutes pass, and Junmyeon feels a tiny bit worse with each and every one of them, as he still can't believe he can't play, even if he finally got the racket after countless struggles. At least he gets to the agreement with himself that looking at all of those inexperienced people trying so hard to be decent appears to be even pleasurable. Not everyone could be a tennis master, after all. Junmyeon considers himself belonging to the other group, since has the talent _and_ luck to be a _very_ skilled one.

His whole life's luck has been apparently used on that, though, because the affliction cannot leave him, sticking to his skin like the summer heat. In addition to everything that has already happened, his nemesis appears on the court, about to hold a lesson right in front of him.

When Sehun walks in, dangerously close to Junmyeon’s bench, the shorter man briefly gawks at the tennis instructor, using his most intimidating stare, but the younger ignores him. Against his own will, Junmyeon's eyes remain glued to the tall figure for longer, even when Sehun is warming up, then starts his training. _Way_ longer than Junmyeon intends.

The movement of the body on the tennis court is like a hypnosis. Mesmerising. Attention-grabbing. And Sehun happens to be an owner of a very enticing one, that Junmyeon has to admit.

Sehun's moves are smooth, sharp when they have to be, and it looks like this is the thing he was born to do, as easy as breathing. He is running around his side of the court gracefully, almost flying, stretching his long limbs in various positions, flexing visible muscles. There is indeed something royal in the way he plays. Something that couldn't be learnt, rather derives from innate abilities. Every, even the most simple or complicated game element, is performed by Sehun without the tiniest bit of hesitation. Confidently, firmly, precisely, _perfectly._

Junmyeon feels humiliated. His body deflates in a split second after the realization that he doesn't even have a chance to counter attack, being completely powerless, beaten in the thing he does the best, in the main purpose of his existence.  
  
Hot tears well up in his eyes. Everything is wrong recently, _everything_ , and it's all Sehun's fault. Since the man has appeared in his life, he already managed to take away all of Junmyeon's greatest luck, all of his pleasure of playing tennis.

It has never happened with anyone else. Junmyeon has met a lot of amazing players in his life, but no one made him furious the way Sehun does, and the thought of it fills him with dread, with biting, acidic feeling, springing up in his gut. Almost as if he was calling Sehun special in his own, twisted way. It shouldn’t be this way with anyone. No one should stand on his way to climb his own steep mountain of success.

Yet Oh Sehun does. He moves like an avalanche taking everything on its way into a deadly embrace. Junmyeon tries to hide from it, but it’s too fast, too strong, pushing him down, until he falls into the valley of his own despair.

After showing off his skills, the young instructor heaves a triumphant look at Junmyeon. Of course he does. The sweat of victory lingers on Sehun’s face like the most beautiful jewel, shining like diamonds gracing the king, indicating his dignity.

Various emotions surge up through Junmyeon’s bones, constricting his lungs, sizzling up his spine. His chest is squeezed with sharp pain, because the avalanche finally got to him, overwhelming and suffocating. He cannot hide anymore.  
  
Green with envy, defeated in an unfair, uneven fight, Junmyeon suddenly pushes away from the bench, curling his fingers into fist, turning his knuckles white. Sehun furrows his brows at that, questioningly tilting his head.

Then, as if in an unexplainable trance, Junmyeon does something he wouldn't think he is even capable of. Before he lets the thoughts in his mind collide into something reasonable, before his mind can take control over his body, he uses full force to throw the tennis racket held in his hand straight to the ground, almost bending it in half. 

Everyone around stops the game to look at the thing lying pathetically on the court, curious of the fuss occuring at the usually calm place. The sudden silence makes Junmyeon sick, the unexpected feeling escalating due to Sehun's petrified expression, a tall body suddenly small in Junmyeon’s eyes.

Junmyeon takes a deep breath through his nose, shaky and wavering, his heart pounding in his ribcage. With angry tears threatening to fall, the small man bolts, leaving the court in a rush, hiding from the whole world, afraid of the response from at least a dozen of eyes silently judging him for his impulsiveness. Afraid of seeing the disappointment in them. The same one he sees looking in the mirror every single day.

🎾

Kyungsoo's gaze doesn’t leave Junmyeon's body even though they are constantly maneuvering through the crowd of the cafeteria trying to find an empty table. When both of them are seated, hunched at the small table in the corner of the room, Junmyeon returns the look.

The tension beaming from his friend suddenly takes his hunger away. Especially because Kyungsoo gives up on the small talk.

"Stop being a dick and apologize to Sehun," Kyungsoo says, his voice hushed and frantic.  
  
Junmyeon huffs, hot and bothered at the suggestion, "No. He humiliated me. Maybe _he_ should apologize."

"Are you out of your mind?" Kyungsoo hisses. "Sehun did nothing but helped you again. It was you who broke his tennis racket without any reason."

Junmyeon rolls his eyes, sticking the fork into an obnoxious looking salad. Everything seems to roam around Sehun these days, even the usually casual lunch talks, which burns down every inch of regret he's feeling after the incident.

"Helped me, my ass. Also, told you I'll buy him a new one if I have to."  
  
Kyungsoo taps his fingers against the surface of the wooden table, creating a deadly rhythm of cold anticipation, "You have to."

"Listen, Kyungsoo—"

Junmyeon’s best friend gets a hold of his hand, stopping him from restlessly messing with tomatoes and lettuce on the plate. Kyungsoo has a very serious look on his face. Junmyeon is not enjoying that in the slightest.

"No, _you_ listen. You're acting like an asshole. I don't even know what you mean by all of this," Junmyeon's friend says with an accusatory undertone. "Are you jealous because of his skills? Because people praise him? Is that the reason?"

Junmyeon gulps, visibly avoiding the sharp eyes drilling a hole in his face. His hand slips from under Kyungsoo's, falling loosely on his lap, and his gaze wanders off, focuses on one of his co-workers chewing on his lunch instead.   
  
There is no reason to answer. Kyungsoo knows what he would say anyway, and Junmyeon doesn't feel like sharing his deepest thoughts surrounded by chomping and slurping.

"Junmyeon, you know you're an amazing tennis player," Kyungsoo leans to him, comfortingly close, as if that's supposed to provide some extra assurance. "To me you will always be the best."  
  
Junmyeon gulps, filled with sudden sadness, with the same gnawing feeling that can't let go of him for years.

"To you. Only to you."

Kyungsoo looks at him like he's the only person present in the room; with inexplicable warmth, and care, and emotions Junmyeon doesn't want to name.

"You know that's not true, Jun."

Junmyeon tries to smile, albeit the bitter feeling on his tongue and the inside of his throat would only turn that into a grimace. He should care about what Kyungsoo thinks, of course he should, and he does in his own way, though for Junmyeon it isn't enough. Junmyeon needs to reach further.To hear those words from someone who will mean them not as a friend, not subjectively, not because that’s what Junmyeon wants to hear.

"If I apologize, will you leave this matter behind?" Junmyeon's small, silent voice doesn't sound like something that would belong to him, too timid and unsure.

Kyungsoo knows then that he is defeated again, looking slightly worried, an image that Junmyeon would rather not list as one of the best looks of his friend. He feels uncomfortably uneasy knowing the reason for it to appear is _him_ most of the time. 

In all honesty, Junmyeon considers himself a peculiar friend. Always causing trouble, lacking emotional support, but giving all his heart away at the same time, putting it safely in Kyungsoo’s warm hands. He is certainly aware he doesn't deserve Kyungsoo, and everything the man could, and actually does, provide him. Junmyeon is focused solely on his one and only life goal of becoming good. No, _the best_. The best to _someone._ To be praised. Admired. Appreciated.

It's like a game where you reach higher levels to finally defeat the boss, but in this case, the final enemy is Junmyeon himself. He climbs levels as mountains he has chosen himself. Yet, despite Junmyeon's cockiness, despite his utter self-confidence, Kyungsoo knows better. There's more to it. A bundle of unsolved matters, shattered dreams, and suppressed emotions.

"Alright, Jun. Alright," Kyungsoo finally answers, tiredly, tugging at Junmyeon's conscience.

His best friend offers him a warm smile. Junmyeon deems himself not worth it. Not for the first time. The bitterness in his mouth cannot be washed down even with overly sweet coffee.

🎾

Junmyeon shouldn't have agreed to confront Sehun face to face.

He has to admit, though very grudgingly, that he could have kept his emotions in check, dealing with the whole racket incident a little bit differently. Maybe right now he wouldn’t have to make a fool out of himself.

Unfortunately it’s too late, so he _has_ to apologize. Otherwise Kyungsoo would eat him alive, and Minseok, who happened to see the whole scene as well, would never forgive Junmyeon for causing such trouble to one of his beloved tennis friends.

Junmyeon doesn't want to lose the trust of the staff from the club as well, for he is sure Sehun has already mentioned how much of an asshole that _Kim Junmyeon_ is. Maybe he didn’t tell Yixing about their first encounter, but this situation will definitely be shared with the others, especially because the court was full of various people. No one would miss such a chance to humiliate his opponent even more. 

Protecting his good name is Junmyeon’s priority, a way to gain the respect he deserves. Sehun won’t ruin that for him.

So there he is, standing at the entrance to the courts, staring unconsciously at Sehun passing the ball with a middle-aged woman. A brand new tennis racket, the same model he broke, rests tightly clutched in his hand.

Sehun spots Junmyeon after finishing the practice, yet doesn't approach him, languidly turning away with ignorance. The younger is casually gathering his things from the court, obviously aware of a pair of eyes focused on him, and it doesn't go unnoticed how Sehun theatrically tries to appear unbothered, gulping an isotonic drink in almost one go, small droplets sliding down the instructor's chin, further along his long neck, reaching his collarbones, in order to finally disappear under his shirt, right at the end of the messily open collar.

Junmyeon is carefully tracing the liquid travelling down Sehun's body, suddenly feeling thirsty, his Adam's apple bobbing roughly whenever he tries to swallow the building up emotions. Something irritates his throat. These are probably the words, stuck in his larynx, itching to be freed.

Sehun eventually darts a short glance at Junmyeon, exactly at the moment the shorter one opens his mouth to say something, and it looks like Junmyeon has been gaping.  
  
Anxiety freezes him in his spot, doesn’t let him avert his gaze, so Junmyeon decides to go with the flow, follow the wave of embarrassment, trying to catch the younger's attention with small gestures like waving his hand, or stomping his feet with a bit more strength, yet the instructor is adamant to everything, doing his own thing.

Junmyeon is almost sure he notices amusement crawling on Sehun’s lips when he cleans the bench from his equipment, pretending he doesn't see the smaller man overflowing with desperation. This situation needs to come to an end as soon as possible, so the smaller timidly moves closer, standing over the tall man crouching next to the sports bag now, and Sehun still ignores his presence. _What a jerk._

Junmyeon barely holds back a rasp. He is so out of it he could easily throw the expensive thing at the instructor without any words of explanation, only to be done and come back home to crawl under his covers from shame, but it wouldn’t solve anything he wants to achieve.

It’s all Kyungsoo’s fault. If only he wasn’t so kind, and stubborn, and nagging...

The younger sighs, but still doesn't acknowledge Junmyeon’s presence, rooting in the bag, so the smaller slowly, reluctantly taps the wide shoulder with the tips of his fingers. The sudden touch makes Sehun jump up and turn around. Junmyeon immediately holds the tennis racket in front of him, looking everywhere but at the man.

"H-Hello. This belongs to you," Junmyeon almost squeals, pretty much ready to slap himself for sounding so miserable.

Sehun stands still, coldness seeping from him despite the heatwave. He looks at Junmyeon, at the racket, and then takes a sip from the bottle, letting the liquid slide down his throat yet again before he nonchalantly throws the empty container into his bag.

"Oh. No, I don't think so. I don't remember owning it."

"What?!" Junmyeon squeaks loudly this time, frowning at Sehun. "I broke the same one. It was yours."

Sehun straightens his body, towering over the older man. Suddenly the confidence leaves Junmyeon without a warning, and he realizes how unusually small he is, not even regarding his height, but his stance.  
  
The instructor brings a towel to his face, wiping the sweat messily, his coppery hair completely wet, covering most of his forehead. Junmyeon staunchly refuses to stare, relentlessly flicking his gaze between Sehun and the clay beneath his feet.

"Yeah, you're right. That racket was mine, but this one," Sehun points at the equipment. "is not. It only looks the same."

Junmyeon swears he will go crazy. He is working hard, trying to be a good citizen, a good employee, a moderately good friend, wanting to get a bit of relaxation on Tuesday afternoons, and yet he is constantly being punished, having to deal with an arrogant tennis instructor trying to trick him into something.

Sehun’s words sound ridiculous to him at first, so he simply laughs, a weird, awfully sounding cackle. The instructor isn’t amused, though. Then Junmyeon gets it, or maybe he knew it from the beginning, but was trying to run away. Something more likely to him.  
  
He simply didn't say those magical words that happen to solve almost every human relation problem, so Sehun is fuming, punishing him with the cold shoulder, though hiding it under the stoic facade. That only makes the whole situation harder.

Two proud men confronting each other bode nothing promising. Junmyeon has assumed the conversation won't be easy, that's why he tried to stray from it as long as he could, but he can’t hide anymore. He is huffing and puffing, fighting his spirit, quickly analysing pros and cons in his head, working almost as rapidly as those computer programmes he is exploiting each and every day of his work.

The outcome is straightforward. _Apologize_.

"Fine. I get it. I'm so— Sor— Sorry?"

"No idea what you said," Sehun carelessly shrugs his shoulders.

"I'M SORRY FOR BREAKING YOUR RACKET!" Junmyeon cannot stand the pressure, shouting the words straight into Sehun's face; realizing what he has done, he covers his mouth with his free hand, blushing the brightest red. 

Sehun's face twitches in surprise. The instructor raises his eyebrows high up to the sky, picks the bag off the ground, putting the strap on his shoulder. He seems a tad bit less tense, but it’s hard to say when his features are expressionless.

"Wow. Okay. Kind of you. Apology not accepted," Sehun deadpans with a loud snort.

"Wha—” Junmyeon shakes his head left and right rapidly, lifting his free hand in defense. “Hey, I come here just to talk to you, sacrificing my free time, bringing you the thing I broke, being _sincerely_ sorry, so maybe stop acting like you're stone cold and let's end this on good terms."

Junmyeon is mad. Annoyed. Ashamed even. His chest is heaving with unreleased rage, squeezing him from the inside. He rarely admits his wrongdoings, too proud to do it, so acting sheepishly in front of Sehun feels like a downgrade. It _is_ a downgrade.

"What a sacrifice. Maybe I should thank you for that?" Sehun laughs humorlessly, draping Junmyeon with a dubious look. "If you want to apologize only superficially, then better don't do it at all."

Junmyeon’s breath hitches loudly in his chest.

"I really didn't want to do that. My bad," the words keep coming out of him in the manner of the broken machine, choking for the dear life. "I'm. Just. I'm really sorry."

He doesn’t even know if he’s honest or not at this point, just wants to deal with it and take a long nap. Each and every word coming out of him seems like an even worse humiliation than the one he encountered before. Moreover, his arm is almost falling off, stiff from holding the racket still in front of him. He’s close to dropping it for the second time.

Junmyeon focuses his nervous eyes only on Sehun’s shoes, feeling as if someone sucked the life out of him. It is something akin to guilt, but the emotion is so rare to him he can't fully decipher it. He doesn’t want to feel guilty. Sehun doesn't deserve that for acting like he owned the whole world.

Suddenly, his palm is empty.

"I am eager to believe your honesty on one condition," Sehun retorts, walking away, and Junmyeon wishes for nothing else than to burn in the sun, leaving only ashes right where he is standing. "Meet me here two times a week after your work. Maybe I will forgive you then."

His head jerks up, tracing over Sehun's disappearing form leaving the court with the old-new tennis racket in his hand. He is somewhat offended by Sehun's words, yet runs after the instructor without thinking much.

"What do you mean?" Junmyeon asks, breathing heavily, voice laced with confusion.

"Well, if you come by, you will see."

🎾

Tuesdays are for Kyungsoo. Wednesdays and Fridays are for Sehun and walking his path of forgiveness.

As much as Junmyeon is annoyed at working with Sehun, helping him completely for free, already tired after his office job, he has to admit he is kind of enjoying spending time at the tennis club. To not get anything wrong, Junmyeon is convincing himself that it is solely because he could be in the place he feels comfortable in, not due to the younger instructor. He deals with him only for the sake of his reputation. No strings attached. They hate each other.

Junmyeon often thinks that he could have ignored Sehun's offer. He really could, since he has multiple reasons for that. Although, he has decided the younger man might be his road to success. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, as someone wise has once said. 

But someone has also said it is easier said than done, and Junmyeon couldn’t agree with it more. Sehun certainly doesn’t make anything any easier.

The instructor keeps finding him various tasks, from relatively not complicated ones to those making him burned-out. Every time they meet, the older man can't stop himself from huffing at Sehun and his unconventional ways to make him regret his deeds.  
  
Junmyeon is a very capable adult in no need of any guidance, certainly not from a few years younger tennis instructor. However, even if the whole situation is unasked for, he puts his heart and soul in every job delegated by Sehun. If it's about tennis, Junmyeon will always treat the case seriously. 

Still, he has to do everything on _his_ terms. To Sehun's irritation, Junmyeon isn't listening to the other man’s instructions most of the time, following his own path, not giving the latter the satisfaction and the sense of control over him, believing in his own ways to handle the situation. And maybe, just maybe, he wants to annoy Sehun a bit more.

Their first official meeting comes sooner than later. At first Sehun makes Junmyeon collect the balls during the tennis class on Wednesday. It seems like someone turned back the time at least by ten years or so, when Junmyeon was spending his every free moment on the courts, not only practicing, but also helping around, taking pure joy from anything connected to his favourite sport.  
  
Granted, Junmyeon would even eagerly channel his inner boy-self, if not for the fact that he couldn't help being pissed at the instructor for changing him into a full time errand boy, forcing him to sweat uncontrollably in the heatwave. Irritated beyond imagination, he throws some balls under Sehun's feet on purpose once, cackling devilishly. Sehun almost breaks his brand new racket after tripping on one of them. Junmyeon has never seen him so furious before.

During the second meeting Sehun introduces Junmyeon to one of his students, including him as a helper to show how to perform some moves. It is satisfactory, as this way Junmyeon could readily boast about his amazing technique. Naturally, it appears not so easy, like everything that the younger prepares. Sehun has simply stolen his spotlight. Again. 

The instructor is a good teacher, there’s no doubt in it. His thorough descriptions, extended by demonstrating what he is talking about with extraordinary patience, catch lots of attention, also Junmyeon's. He becomes kind of a Sehun's student himself for a while.  
  
It’s just for science, so Junmyeon could defeat his enemy, obviously, albeit the small man cannot suppress his genuine awe. Sehun is _good._ Surely not the best of the best, but he knows what he’s doing, and he’s definitely better than Jongin, with whom Junmyeon had the pleasure to play once. Unsurely, following Sehun's instructions _for once,_ Junmyeon agrees with himself that there are actually some points he is lacking at. Marginally. 

The lesson also has a different aspect, the one that appears the most interesting to Junmyeon. He is a man of the aesthetics, so besides tennis as a whole, he is seriously fascinated by the artistic side of the game. Mostly by the player’s abilities, and the gracefulness their precise moves bring to the performance on the court.  
  
Once again Sehun is a perfect target for his fascination. They might be on bad terms, but it doesn’t stop Junmyeon from simply admiring tennis, and there wouldn’t be tennis without players, no matter how annoying they are. While the instructor isn't looking, Junmyeon lets his eyes run over _every_ part of the taller's body, admiring the motion of flexed muscles underneath the slightly tanned skin. 

Unluckily, he is so immersed in the act of tracing Sehun's taut butt that he doesn't hear the instructor prodding him to move, which results in being called a pervert, and getting hit by the tennis ball straight on the top of his head. Junmyeon has a bump in that place for a few following days. He keeps glancing at Sehun with sullen resentment whenever their eyes meet, only accidentally, but it tends to happen more and more often somehow.

They move on to other things, which makes Junmyeon content. He has enough of seeing Sehun flexing his skills in front of him, as if he doesn’t have to look at it every Tuesday anyway. He waits for the day it will all end, and the roles will reverse, making Sehun the one admiring everything Junmyeon is capable of.

Even if Junmyeon was happy at first, his mood goes down. The situation becomes more complicated than he thought. The next few meetings are focused on working with kids aged from five to eight.  
  
Junmyeon has never expected to do anything like this. He feels harrowed, even more so after hearing Sehun explaining Yixing how active and hard to tame the group is. He is not suitable for taking care of children, not to mention teach them how to play tennis, so by the time the small motion of little monsters spreads onto the court, Junmyeon is already shaking, trying to forge a lie that would rescue him from the mare. After brainstorming, he simply decides to have a bad stomachache. 

As expected, Sehun doesn't believe him, dragging him to the court by the elbow, gently yet firmly, ignoring Junmyeon’s protests. Weirdly, the younger's touch lingers, leaving an imaginary itching spot, making Junmyeon even more appalled.

Unlike Sehun, instead of working with a bigger number of children, Junmyeon has to take care of only one boy. Seems easier, but obviously it’s _not._ The child is the youngest, one of the tiniest in the group, also the least experienced, needing the most attention and _patience_. Something that Junmyeon lacks at times. 

It only gets on Junmyeon's nerves more, because he knows he will have to work the hardest, even though Sehun has to deal with a whole cluster. It’s yet another act of making his life a horror where the instructor plays a main role of the haunting creature.  
  
Junmyeon tries to show Sehun he’s capable of doing it, and not only moderately well, but brilliantly. That he's worthy to be called exceptional. He’s doing his job, calmly and gently trying to explain the most important matters to the child, but every time the boy cannot hold the racket the right way or do something that Junmyeon explains to him, the nearly-instructor doesn't even try to hide his dissatisfaction. 

After a few very tense moments, the kid is almost crying, so Junmyeon takes him to the side before Sehun could notice, genuinely crestfallen, full of guilt, pitying the boy. His frustration shouldn't influence the child. It isn't the poor boy’s fault that Junmyeon and Sehun are fighting like a cat and dog.

Hesitantly, he crouches in front of the little one, patting the boy's head just like Kyungsoo does when something worries Junmyeon. Thank heavens for such an affectionate friend.

"I'm sorry. Please, don't cry," Junmyeon smiles kindly at the small figure, fixing the fringe getting into the boy's eyes. "What's your name?"

"B-Baekhyun, sir."

"Baekhyun. Very pretty. You can call me Jun, okay?"

The boy nods his head, albeit reluctantly, "J-Jun?”

“Yes?” 

Junmyeon waits for an answer that doesn’t come, watching Baekhyun fiddling with the rim of his t-shirt.  
  
“What’s going on, Baekhyun?”

“Are— are you mad at me?" Baekhyun utters quietly.  
  
Junmyeon’s chest tightens uncomfortably. Guilt. It's definitely guilt this time.

"No! Of course not," Junmyeon reassures, lightly touching the boy's arm, sympathetically trying to come up with some excuse for his behaviour. "It's… um, it’s the weather. I'm mad at the sun."

The weather probably reciprocates Junmyeon's hatred, for using it to dishonestly explain his deeds has become his habit recently. It is not the best answer he could come up with, very obvious, but Baekhyun is just a small boy, so Junmyeon has a very high chance to succeed.

"Bad sun. It's causing problems for me too," Baekhyun, visibly ill-tempered, mutters the words with irritation.

Junmyeon chuckles nervously, relief finally letting him breathe. "Problems?"

Baekhyun nods, his gaze falling to the ground. The boy doesn’t seem very shy, more uncomfortable in the current situation, so his behaviour is definitely an effect of something causing him trouble.  
  
Junmyeon has to encourage the little one to talk, otherwise Sehun will approach them, and it will be the older man who will be in a _very_ serious trouble. He stands up, taking the boy's small hand into his, waiting for the confirmation it's okay. When Baekhyun doesn't protest, Junmyeon leads them both back to the center of the court. 

A pair of eyes falls on them, following their every move. Sehun is observing them, very carefully, like a hawk.

"What's the matter?" Junmyeon asks again, expecting to eventually find out what brought Baekhyun's mood down.

"I don't have my hat. I can't see the ball because of the sun. It's not b-because I can't play. I swear!" the boy stutters out.

Baekhyun looks distressed. His plump lips keep trembling in an uncontrollable manner, tiny fingers putting pressure on Junmyeon’s, and it cracks Junmyeon open, leaving him vulnerable in front of a very upset, very tiny, very lovable little boy. It's unusual for him to show affection, but he's not made of stone, and apparently someone has just found a soft spot in his heart.

Junmyeon can't stand the sight, letting his deeply hidden feelings resurface for the first time in ages, surprising even himself by taking off the cap he is wearing, Kyungsoo's favourite Nike one _,_ and putting it on Baekhyun's head, adjusting the strap in the process. It's still too big, but at least will give the boy some courage, Junmyeon hopes.

"Here,” Junmyeon half-whispers. “Have my hat. The bad sun won't cause any problems anymore."

The boy squeaks, squeezing Junmyeon's hand with full force now. In a split second, Baekhyun's energy seems to be at its finest once again, happiness flowing out of every move of his tiny body.

Junmyeon smiles, but it’s not his best, not the most honest one. He wants so badly to be joyous as well, to forget about the dull pain in his chest spreading like fury, but his heart is squeezed as much as his hand in Baekhyun's embrace. 

There is something about the situation Junmyeon can't quite comprehend. Something hitting too close to home, leaving him hollow inside. Images flash in his mind, vivid, colorful, full of hope, of _love._  
  
Junmyeon very intensely thinks about the sudden vision of a small boy being in love with tennis, with the court, with the clay annoyingly sticking to his first tennis shoes. A small boy with big dreams, bigger than his equally small mind could ever fit. 

He comes to a painful realization then. Junmyeon sees himself in Baekhyun. Or rather his younger, happier self. It brings back memories, filling him with the dire need to live through his childhood once again. To pretend everything could be as easy as back then. To pretend his not-so-big now dreams still matter.

Nothing could help him restore the euphoria he felt while playing tennis as a small boy, though. Not even the most ravishing, first ever genuine smile Sehun sends his way from across the court. Not even the way it makes Junmyeon feel, against his own will.

🎾

The time Junmyeon spends on teaching Baekhyun has become even more exciting than his weekly tennis sessions with Kyungsoo. He has realized he is actually… having fun.  
  
It goes smoother than he thought. The boy is a fast learner, though a bit clumsy at times. Junmyeon tries his best not to mind, turning every failure into a joke, making his little friend laugh and try again with more eagerness than before.

Junmyeon and Baekhyun have clicked almost immediately. Kyungsoo claims they simply complete each other. It's a relationship that seems perfect, as perfect as a bond between a man in his twenties and a five year old could be.  
  
Baekhyun is simply an unexpected gift from fate. The boy is always asking Junmyeon to show him how to do a certain thing a few more times than it's needed, getting excited over his older friend hitting the ball with the racket in different positions, much to the latter’s joy. It’s a great opportunity for him to practice and master his skills, as well as relax a bit.

Junmyeon feels fulfilled, or at least partly so. Being appreciated that much, even if he is a role model to a boy who doesn't really understand tennis and simply enjoys having fun on the court, feels splendid in some way.   
  
The constant pressure and tension somehow disappear, disintegrating into small, less jabbing feelings, leaving Junmyeon at peace, almost empty-minded. He is not putting his mind to stealing the title from the current tennis king with such an effort as before. Only for a while at least.

Junmyeon wonders if that was Sehun's aim involving him into teaching a kid in the first place. A strategy of some sort. If Sehun maybe wants to soften Junmyeon, so he wouldn't be able to defeat him, wouldn’t succeed in the challenge they have between them.   
  
Something definitely seems fishy, because Sehun wouldn't want to help Junmyeon, or at least Junmyeon thinks so. They are enemies. Enemies are supposed to fight, not help each other. This is the main, unwritten rule.

However, Sehun doesn’t seem eager to fight. And that makes Junmyeon concerned. _Very_ concerned.

Whatever are the younger plans, by no means Junmyeon isn't soft by nature. If there is any softness in him these days, it’s mostly reserved for Baekhyun. Nothing could make him smile more than spending time with the little creature full of energy, always running around, sharing a positive aura with everyone.   
  
Since the first meeting with the boy, Junmyeon has had the overwhelming urge to take care of him and treat him with utmost attention, even by simple gestures. That’s why he has decided on bringing not only one, but two energy bars with him. Raspberry for him, strawberry for his little friend. And Junmyeon has never shared this habit with anyone, not even with Kyungsoo.

"Is there one for me as well?" Sehun asks, clearly noticing Junmyeon’s pattern, ruffling Baekhyun's hair while the boy is munching on his snack.

"Guess you don't deserve it," Junmyeon answers confidently, pointedly unpacking his own candy bar in front of Sehun’s face.

The instructor fixes Junmyeon with a curious stare, but doesn't seem offended, "What should I do to get one, then?"

Sehun's eyes, partly covered by the loose strands of windswept hair, are flashing with amusement as he quirks his brow at the shorter man. Junmyeon realizes he is dumbly staring at the instructor.  
  
An unusual feeling spills over his gut. He doesn’t have enough will to suppress it, not even by exerting all the control on his body that he possibly can. Junmyeon isn't sure if it's caused by the sweet bar in his hand, or the sweet smile of man in front of him. 

"I won with Jun, I got a snack," Baekhyun mumbles with his mouth filled to the brim, not paying attention to the tension cutting the air. "I did a perfect s… se…"

"Serve, Baekhyun. It was a serve," Junmyeon whispers.

"It was a serve, Sehun. A perfect serve."

Sehun gives Baekhyun a high five, nodding his head in approval. Junmyeon's toughness is melting at the view. Of the boy, naturally. Not his enemy. 

"Well, so that's how you get a prize. But I don't know if I will be able to defeat Junmyeon. What do you think, Baekhyunnie?" Sehun grins wider.

Junmyeon wants to take the dashing expression off Sehun's face so badly that his fingers twitch, and he has to curl them up into a fist at his side.

"Jun is the best. You won't win, Sehun," Baekhyun laughs.

The older relaxes slightly, chuckles haughtily, stealing glances at the tennis instructor shaking his head in a simulated disbelief. Sehun lifts Baekhyun off the ground, tucking him under his arm. The five year old can’t stop laughing.

Junmyeon manages to catch the candy bar falling out of the boy's hand, at the same time catching a glimpse of the instructor's sly smile. His insides take a weird turn, and he doesn't feel dejected by this, much to his wonder.

🎾  
  


"Baekhyun, don't cry. It's gonna be fun. You will play with other kids now,” Junmyeon tries to brush the tears streaming down the boy's face, but it seems like a never-ending waterfall.

"I want to p-play with you," Baekhyun grasps Junmyeon's leg tightly, clinging to him like a koala. "Sehun, tell Jun to s-stay."

Sehun sighs. Junmyeon does as well, their breaths coming in unison. An apologizing look sneaks onto the instructor’s features as he tries to make the boy detach from Junmyeon. Despite his small body, Baekhyun appears to be quite firm, and stubborn most of all. 

"He can visit you anytime," Sehun assures; the boy loosens his grip a bit upon hearing those words. "Jun has to take some rest at home. He told me you're so good at tennis, and so strong, his old bones might crack while playing with you."

Junmyeon's mouth opens wide in a blank amazement. _This asshole._ Sehun even dares to guffaw, and if they weren’t with the child now, Junmyeon would make the instructor regret even daring to say a word. Only Baekhyun's giggles stop him from making a snarky remark.

Baekhyun clutches Junmyeon's hand in a comforting manner, "Jun is not a dinosaur. He's not that old," he says empathetically.

Junmyeon wraps his fingers around Baekhyun's, warmth of the touch pleasurably tingling his skin, appeasing him. The boy reminds Junmyeon of Kyungsoo to the point he is wondering if both of his friends don't share the same soul. But Sehun... Sehun is a different case. The shorter man shoots the tall one an unamused glance.  
  
"Did you hear Baekhyun? I'm perfectly healthy and—"

The instructor apparently has none of it, taking the boy away from Junmyeon in a swift move, seizing the opportunity.

"Sure, sure. Baekhyunnie, go to the group and you can say goodbye to Junmyeon after the practice, okay?" Sehun says, cracking a small smile at whiny Baekhyun.

The boy leaves them alone, very unwillingly, still looking at Junmyeon with puppy eyes as if with a simple, imploring stare he could convince his big friend to stay by his side forever. Junmyeon's heart is breaking in half at the view, not ready to let Baekhyun go as well, but he has to. He’s been letting people go his whole life. He’s used to it.

Being left only with Sehun, Junmyeon finally clears his throat, catching the instructor's attention.

"I will rest at home, you say," the smaller mutters, trying to avoid the view of the annoying amusement dancing in the instructor’s eyes.

"Jun, I mean, _Junmyeon,_ " Sehun says slowly, the usual aloofness making its comeback, though his lips twitch in something akin to a smirk. "I guess you're being forgiven."

Junmyeon’s brow absentmindedly goes up, probably making him look like a cartoon character with a question mark over his head, but, well, he actually feels like one at the moment.

"Already? That’s unexpected," Junmyeon answers, his confusion not matching the flat tone of voice he forces out of himself.

Sehun shrugs, as if it’s not a big deal. It is, though. All this effort isn't casual.

"You have learnt your lesson. I believe those three weeks of working with Baekhyun have taught you something."

Junmyeon furrows his brows, almost unnoticeably. Something… something _did_ change in him, but he wouldn’t openly admit it in front of the other man.

His challenging attitude and fighting spirit toned down a bit, and seeing Sehun from the other side - caring, patient, devoted to his job, made him less of an enemy than he had been before, but _still_ an enemy. An opponent in the game for the title. The need to be _the best_ is still there, at the bottom of Junmyeon's heart, though he hasn’t felt it for quite some time. It is uncanny. Makes him feel like he switched bodies with someone else. It’s not him, and he has to gather himself, but...

There’s also another emotion hiding somewhere in the back of his mind, something similar to fear of the unknown, excitement laced with uncertainty, a pang of doubt if what he’s trying to achieve is worth it, if it’s what he _wants._ But what else would he want out of this?

Sehun's words get Junmyeon out of his reverie, "You don't have to come next time, but well... I thought we could spar. Let's say, a nice way to finish your work," he says, a bit tense, a bit nervous, unlike the usual Sehun.

Junmyeon blinks a few times, too shocked to form any sentence. Sehun notices the bafflement, fidgeting clumsily, seemingly unsure if he made a good decision. The instructor's eyes refuse to find their way back to Junmyeon.

Junmyeon’s heart is crashing into his chest with every frantic beat. He cannot grasp whether it is out of excitement or fear. Maybe both. The day of their ultimate clash is closer than ever. _Is he ready?_ Is it the end of his struggles, or only the beginning?

"S-Sure,” Junmyeon stutters out, pretending his confidence didn't unexpectedly perish a moment before. 

“Great,” Sehun states, feverishly nodding his head; Junmyeon definitely doesn't share the enthusiasm.  
  
“Good. Great.”  
  
The silence falls between them, quite uncomfortable, but neither of them leaves. They stand together, eyes focused on nothingness, sun biting their bare arms. The conversation should’ve finished at that, but sometimes Junmyeon has this urge to take control over the situation, and suddenly he remembers their conversation about energy bars, his mouth moving on his own, his mind speaking for itself.

“Sehun. Do you… well, do you expect a prize, like Baekhyun? If you even have a chance to win, I mean." 

It’s too late to take it all back. He isn’t even sure what made him say that. He’s so, so stupid, so embarrassed, and so weirded out by his of behaviour, that the only thing left for him is to smile sheepishly, pretending he’s fine. 

Sehun’s face changes, gleam of hope sliding into his features, and his lips twist into a simper. Confidence beams from the latter so strongly it makes Junmyeon weak, especially when the younger crosses his arms on his broad chest, and Junmyeon's throat gets completely dry at the way the instructor's shirt tightens around the muscled bicep.  
  
What’s going on with him?

"Glad you asked. Of course I do," Sehun smiles, and Junmyeon already regrets.

🎾

"Ready to beat the shit out of your enemy?"

The round-faced devil, known also as Junmyeon's best friend, has chosen to josh the pretty much busy office worker in the worst moment possible.   
  
It’s another busy day at the company. Junmyeon could barely find a moment to eat, not to mention have a friendly chat, and yet Kyungsoo, as always, appears from nowhere and asks questions. Digs deeper and deeper into Junmyeon's troubled mind.  
  
Junmyeon notices coffee in Kyungsoo's hand, though, the overpowering scent of roasted beans pleasurably teasing his nostrils. He will bear with his friend only to get to drink it, or else he won't survive till the end of his shift.

"I've been ready since I was born," Junmyeon deadpans casually, furiously typing something on his laptop, trying to ignore Kyungsoo's presence as much as he can, but still lurking at the hot liquid, being so close yet so far.

Kyungsoo doesn't get discouraged by that. He's used to every stage of Junmyeon's behaviour, and he knows Junmyeon will be moderately easy on him because he need caffeine, that's why he allows himself to be a pain in the ass.

"Jongin told me you had a terrific time being Sehun's ballboy," Junmyeon's friend says, smiling teasingly.

The sitting one flinches, biting his lower lip with aggravation.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"What else has your loverboy told you?" Junmyeon mumbles, feigning indifference.

Kyungsoo moves from his spot, much to Junmyeon’s despair, until he sits down on Junmyeon's desk, dangerously close to the cup full of steaming coffee he set there a second before. Junmyeon pushes the drink further, so it wouldn't end up on the documents or his computer, smacking his lips loudly in the act of discontent.  
  
Obviously his friend doesn’t even notice, or more likely doesn’t care.

"Jongin claims that apparently you're the only one treating the other side as an enemy."

"Bullshit," Junmyeon scoffs.

"Jun, would Sehun offer a peaceful sparring if he wanted to, uh,” Kyungsoo thinks carefully about the word he should use. “ _humiliate_ you again?"

Junmyeon’s fingers hover over the keyboard as he ceases writing to throw a hasty look at his best friend, "That's exactly what he would do. He's only acting friendly to end me."

"Kim. Freaking. Junmyeon,” Kyungsoo shakes Junmyeon’s shoulder, creasing the crumpled shirt even more; Junmyeon wonders if his boss will even let him into his office looking like this. “He could end you _every_ single time you met him those past three weeks. Don't you think?"

Junmyeon simply shrugs, dismissing his friend in his own, nonverbal way, turning around, praying for Kyungsoo to disappear as soon as possible. Sehun could do whatever he wants, besides, Junmyeon doesn’t really trust him, and Kyungsoo’s judgments aren’t valid as he doesn’t know the instructor at all.

His job, and the sole thought of finally meeting his nemesis on the court are causing him enough stress. He definitely doesn’t need the meaningless blabber of his best friend in addition to that. The thread of Junmyeon's patience is extremely thin these days.

Kyungsoo squints, "You don't seem as excited as I thought you will be."

Junmyeon can’t help but sigh and look at his friend once again, giving him the attention he apparently craves. He can indulge him this one time.

"I am, Soo. Very excited."

"But?"

“No buts,” Junmyeon swallows his lies harshly. “Everything’s alright.”

“Is it now?” Kyungsoo snickers, tilting his head, looking ridiculously unconvincing.  
  
Yet it’s all Junmyeon needs to stop pretending. There is no escape. Kyungsoo knows him too well. 

Junmyeon's hands start to sweat, so he carelessly wipes them against his fitted slacks, promising himself to thoroughly wash the piece of clothing later. He will regret this, he is sure of it, and still he lets words out of his heavy chest without hesitation.

"Something is off. I feel like, after finally defeating my enemy and ripping off his title, I will have no aim in my life anymore. Right now I'm living with the thought that I have something to achieve, but," Junmyeon heaves a countless deep sigh. "when I get to the top, what next?"

Kyungsoo just stares at him, looking as if he's deeply thinking of a suitable, helpful answer, though Junmyeon knows his friend has a piece of advice already prepared for him, rather wondering of delivering the words in the way that would be perfectly suited for his constantly overthinking friend.  
  
"Well, before Sehun you didn't have any enemy other than yourself, and it was fine," Junmyeon lets out a strangled groan when Kyungsoo hits right in the worst spot. "I think there's something more bothering you."

"More?" Junmyeon irks his brow up, ignoring the reluctance to hear more wise words that would definitely make him question himself; perhaps Kyunsoo _wanted_ Junmyeon to overthink this one time.

"Does it have anything to do with the fact that your enemy is specifically Sehun? You know, he's... quite your type. In every way."

If Junmyeon could, he would murder Kyungsoo with his stare. 

"It has _nothing_ to do with this lanky man’s appearance or personality," he manages to say through clenched teeth, a startling emotion curling around his ribcage. “It’s solely about the rivalry. About the game. All about fulfilling my goal.”

"Of course," Kyungsoo drags out the vowels languidly. "So I thought. And yet, you want to be the tennis king, and the best player. Achieving your dream sounds like the best self-fulfillment. Beating Sehun too. Why the sudden uncertainty then?"

"I still want all of it. Just, maybe, not that urgently," Junmyeon mumbles while rubbing his neck, easing uncomfortable pain. "I simply have no idea what one does after reaching the peak. I don't want to be left at the top barehanded. What if—"

“If you don’t gain respect even after that? Or if Sehun loses interest in you once you defeat him?” Kyungsoo asks, his voice tender, soothing.

Junmyeon thought the answer is simple, yet right here and now it doesn’t seem so. 

One half-conscious nod of his head is enough for his best friend to smile with concern and jump off the desk, standing behind him, putting strong hands on his shoulders with a gentle yet firm squeeze. Junmyeon peeks up at Kyungsoo, feeling warmth, feeling safety, feeling _at home._

"You don't know what's at the top before you don’t reach it yourself. And if what you see there doesn't satisfy you, or you’re not ready to give it a try, there's always another mountain to climb, Junmyeon. You will find the right one, eventually. Maybe higher, maybe more demanding, but definitely worth it."

🎾

Friday. Anxiety can’t leave him, eating him from the inside. It’s the day of the greatest match, the duel of the fates. Junmyeon against Sehun.

He was sure he would feel excited, as he stubbornly claimed to his best friend, but that emotion has somehow escaped his whole body long before the sparring. Junmyeon is rather tense instead. Worried despite his confidence. He doesn’t like this _at all._

Something about the meeting doesn't sit right with Junmyeon. His gut feeling becomes even more nagging when he finally meets the instructor.  
  
Sehun appears on the court shooting a big smile uncovering his shiny teeth, clothes perfectly fitted to his body in that awfully enticing way, his hair styled up so it wouldn't get into his eyes. Junmyeon stares at the younger dumbly, thinking he likes the instructor's hairstyle a bit more messy. Sehun’s gaze is less arresting then, and so it can’t turn Junmyeon into a stuttering fluffball, which he definitely _isn't_ on a daily basis _._

The atmosphere certainly doesn’t remind Junmyeon of a clash between two enemies. He expected a harsh look on the younger's face, a wave of determination, of challenge, _anything_ but that cheery expression that angers him to the core. Seems like Sehun is not treating him seriously. It makes his heart clench.

Junmyeon almost drops his racket to the ground again, but then he reminds himself of the humiliation he would have to go through if he didn't even try doing his best today. He stays calm eventually, at least on the outside. His insides are boiling-hot.

Without losing precious time, they warm up, then start the game, deciding on counting the points even though it is all just for _fun_. Junmyeon insists.

The fight is even. Calm, but fierce in the key moments. Point by point, game by game, set by set. Sehun is moving as gracefully as always, naturally, not trying to overdo anything, but not giving his opponent a head start. Junmyeon isn't any worse, showing his best, bouncing off the ground as eagerly as the tennis balls hit by his racket. 

They are completely worn out by the last, deciding set, sweltering, the heat giving them both a hard time. It’s going well, incredibly well, but Junmyeon cannot let the euphoria carry him through the game. He doesn’t feel it, doesn’t know what is happening to him. Suddenly the tennis court is a blur. 

Carried away by the fleeting surge of overpowering energy, he sinks deep into the insides of his head instead of using the uncanny thrill physically on the court. His mind decides on contemplating his whole existence, right here, during the most important match he has been waiting so long for. 

One look at Sehun preparing to serve, one moment of hesitance, and it's enough for him overthink, a side effect of what Kyungsoo has told him. The muse becomes unbearable, thoughts a rolling storm inside his head. He tries to get rid of it, to stop this nightmare, but he can't. _Not now, not now, not..._ It’s so close. _So_ _close._ The reputation, the titles, the respect. Soon everyone will call him _the best_ , the king of tennis _._ Most of all, Sehun.

That matter is the one drilling the biggest hole in Junmyeon's stomach. Junmyeon realized, despite convincing himself it’s stupid, that Sehun is the only one who can give him what he wants, what he needs, building a mountain he could climb to get to its imaginary top. It makes sense, a lot of sense, but Junmyeon doesn’t want it to.  
  
He can’t understand, can't digest _why_ he would want Sehun out of all people to notice him so desperately. Of course, the younger is the current master here, so it’s obvious he should pass the title to Junmyeon, congratulate him, and praise him all over the club, but… there is also something else. Something sticking itchy needles into his heart. Something pouring cold sweat all over his back. Something unseemly to him. Something he’s been feeling for quite some time now.

He can’t pinpoint what _exactly_ it is, but it stings. Covers his view when he is almost at the top, _almost_ seeing what is there, finally. 

Instead of being filled with pride of having the victory at arm’s length, everything is foggy, and he feels an icy-cold void taking over his heart. Junmyeon is certain he is going to lose something in order to gain something. There is a hidden sacrifice he doesn’t want to make. It is _too much._

That scares him. Scares him to the point he doesn’t perform the last blow, deciding on him being the winner or loser. Instead of hitting the ball in the right spot of the court that would definitely provide him victory, he doesn’t use enough force, making the small object land on the net on his side. The ball falls miserably to the ground, bouncing once, twice, with Junmyeon’s thumping heart in tow.

Sehun catches his breath, then lets it out with a small whizz. He doesn’t look any less confused than the smaller man.

A few days earlier Junmyeon was sure the failure would make him cry, that he would throw a fit, and never, ever would like to see Sehun or the tennis court again, yet not now. Now nothing really happens. He is only tired and troubled, but it isn't exactly because of his do or die. It’s not solely about him anymore.

Oh Sehun appears to be his biggest, most nagging hassle.

The said man is panting heavily, coming to the middle of the court to shake Junmyeon's hand in the act of respect and gratitude after a great duel. Junmyeon is breathless as well, touching Sehun's sweaty palm, gently patting his shoulder covered by a wet polo shirt. The instructor's hand brushing his own is the cause of an unexpected buzz running through his skin, his veins, to every limb, every inch of his body.

"Amazing game, Junmyeon. Thank you," Sehun pants.

"Yeah. Amazing." 

Sehun lifts his lips in a small, tired smile. Junmyeon barely reciprocates it, faintly, grimly. 

Reminiscing about the whole game, Sehun’s attitude, and the period of time he has spent with the instructor before their match, he can’t help being rattled. Sehun apparently didn’t try to end him. Not today. Maybe not ever. That is the key to Junmyeon’s hidden worries, to his doubts, but surprisingly not to the feelings, angrily bubbling in his chest. 

Junmyeon has ultimately lost his enemy, the only opportunity to finally reach the top along with him, but even if he can’t admit it, he doesn’t consider this change to the situation bad. He has lost and gained a different thing that he expected, but it’s not necessarily _wrong._ It should be, but it isn’t.

Focusing on Sehun's gleaming eyes, Junmyeon thinks that perhaps, just perhaps, he has gained something _more precious_ than a title in exchange. Perhaps something more demanding, but _worth it.  
_

🎾

They agreed on a sweet prize for the winner, that one time during the kids’ training, and after they freshened up after the match, it’s a great time to deliver it to the lucky one. Junmyeon is too drained to argue. He simply follows the tennis instructor as a lifeless form. 

It’s another hot day. Sehun offers ice cream, a wide smile practically begging the smaller man to agree. Junmyeon doesn’t protest against it as well. 

He is the one supposed to buy the treat, he lost after all, but the tennis instructor seats him on a bench in front of a small shop next to the tennis club, going inside without listening to Junmyeon's wailing. Junmyeon doesn’t like the idea, it’s not how it’s supposed to be, but he eventually obeys, staring numbly at his tennis shoes, anxiously wiggling his feet. He’s too lost in his own thoughts to care about anything.

Soon Sehun comes back, throwing his tall body at the free spot next to him. Junmyeon is being handed a popsicle. Raspberry flavoured. He looks up at Sehun, giving him a questioning stare.

"You always eat raspberry energy bars, so I thought it's your favourite flavor," Sehun shrugs.

"You were wrong," Junmyeon mumbles.

Sehun offers Junmyeon a raise of his brow, glancing at the smaller man biting off a big chunk of ice cream and swallowing it hungrily. The instructor snickers. Junmyeon graces him with a rather unpleasant look.  
  
“What?”

"Maybe you want mine, then?" Sehun asks, visibly amused.

Junmyeon peers at Sehun's mint chocolate ice cream, almost recoiling in disgust, "No, I will manage to eat this one."

Raspberry flavor is his favourite after all.

🎾

It isn't that Junmyeon envisaged himself keeping in touch with Sehun after their encounter on the court. There is no reason for them to be close anyway, especially when Junmyeon has lost the game and consented to stay in the shadows of _the king_ , though not without an inner debate.   
  
It's just... The situation is just unusual. All of Junmyeon's premises have fallen into pieces, leaving him adrift. He is lost in his own labrinth leading to the top, listening to the heart, then to his mind, losing the right path over and over again.

Junmyeon isn't certain what his aim is anymore. What he should do next. He has lost with Sehun, that should be it, the end. Yet, despite everything being settled once and for all, he can still sense himself crumbling under Sehun’s figure, seen only in the distance every Tuesday afternoon. This time, it’s not the challenge fueling it, though.

Naturally, Junmyeon hasn’t wholly come to terms with his failure, but the sorrow he feels over another lost dream surprisingly isn’t his most significant bother. Something deep inside him longs for the feeling of defiant ignorance he used to treat the young instructor with. For Sehun’s voice ringing in his ears. For his smile, too.

Junmyeon tries to push these thoughts out of his head. He simply needs to have a sense of challenge, of purpose, of the chance to be praised. It isn’t about Sehun himself, but the possibilities provided by the closure of the younger man. At least that is what Junmyeon tries to make himself believe. Obviously, it doesn’t work the way it should.

Some time after their ultimate duel, when Junmyeon decides on visiting Baekhyun during the Wednesday training, Sehun’s eyes are fixed on him every time he can turn his gaze away from the messy group of kids.   
  
Junmyeon is waiting for that sour feeling of becoming irate to spill all over his body, the one always springing up in his gut in Sehun’s presence, but it occurs he isn’t even slightly annoyed, feeling his cheeks heating instead. It is solely because of the summer heat. It _has_ to be.

He isn't sure why he stays behind, what draws him to that decision, even if his little friend has already left the tennis club with his parents, waving goodbye with a sad expression on his chubby face. But Junmyeon _does,_ and that’s when Sehun approaches him, looking way too good with his disheveled hair and flushed cheeks.

“Baekhyun was happy you came. Thanks.”

“I promised him a visit, so here I am. No need to thank me,” Junmyeon smiles flatly.

The instructor nods at that, gesturing at the two chairs standing on the edge of the court. Junmyeon nods back. They settle on them, though the smaller one more hesitantly, nervously looking around. His eyes involuntarily fall on the man next to him. A huge mistake.

Sehun’s face is basking in the sun, dipped in the golden, shiny layer of sweat, suddenly too distracting, trapping the shorter man in its captivating cage. It shouldn’t feel that nice to look at Sehun. _It shouldn’t._

“Can I ask you something?” the instructor's voice cuts the silence, unexpectedly frigid.

“Yeah. Sure," Junmyeon says.

It definitely doesn’t sound as casual as Junmyeon wanted it to, his voice too strained, shrill. Too distracted by unknown emotions rising high in his body.

“Why didn't you win? You could finish the game in your favour. Yet you didn't,” Sehun asks, boring Junmyeon with his firm gaze.

Junmyeon flinches.  
  
That’s a good question. The one even Junmyeon himself doesn’t really know the answer to. The one gnawing him the most. It surprises him, even though deep inside he might have expected this conversation, sooner or later. Eventually, he doesn’t know what to say. Junmyeon doesn’t want to open himself for Sehun to grab and take what’s inside. Not... not yet.

“I— I had a sudden cramp."

Sehun chuckles, bitterly, emptily, “An awful reason to lose.”

“It happens,” Junmyeon shrugs.

“And you're okay with it? After all this effort to challenge me?” Sehun bites back, changes his attitude by one hundred eighty degrees, looking deadly serious.

Junmyeon snorts, already irritated by their conversation, too alike to an investigation rather than amiable talk. He was ready to talk to Sehun with a silver of friendliness, but right now he wants to leave and never speak to him again. Sucking up a sharp breath, Junmyeon answers, unwillingly.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

Sehun nods, looking away. His fists clench and unclench in a nervous manner a few times. Junmyeon feels sick.

“Cut the bullshit. I won't believe all your murderous stares, destroying my racket, and other small things weren't your way to get under my skin,” Sehun finally says, throwing Junmyeon an angry glance.

A slight tremor travels through Junmyeon's body, his cover falling apart, leaving him cold and naked. Something flashes in his mind. A memory of Kyungsoo trying to convince him Sehun isn’t considering him an enemy. A jab to Junmyeon's heart, because after their last encounter he _knows_ it has been true all along.  
  
Junmyeon is rarely wrong about people. One time when he most probably gauged someone falsely, it has to be Sehun out of all.

“You, um, you— I found you my nemesis. It's obvious I couldn't just sit and watch. I had to do something about it,” Junmyeon almost whispers, suddenly full of shame.

An icy cold scoff rings in his ears. The confirmation of the terrible, terrible mistake.

“Nemesis. You're funny,” the instructor snorts, moves dangerously close to Junmyeon. "I'm not your enemy. Never have been. Hopefully never will be. Neither are _you_ mine.”

Junmyeon closes his eyes, because it hurts, it really does. It shouldn’t, like all those others bizarre emotions travelling through him in Sehun’s presence, but it _does.  
  
_The air turns dense, as always when they happen to be in the same space, and it's hard to breathe even with the comforting wind surrounding their bodies. The dying sunlight of the summer afternoon colors Sehun’s hair in an orangy tone, marvellous and enthralling. There’s something sad about their situation. It could be magical in different circumstances.

Junmyeon is terrified of his urge to cast his fingers through the softness of these shiny locks, but he fights it, even though he’s short of breath from the effort. It's getting suffocating. Junmyeon’s body and soul are captivated by dull pain. His throat is horribly aching from the lack of water in his system, or most likely it’s the overpowering guilt again. He isn’t strong enough to act on it.

“I thought you were treating me as your enemy as well," Junmyeon's voice is small, weak, as uncertain as his words. "I said that you _were_ someone like that to me, anyway. Past tense. I don’t… I don’t care now.” 

“So you gave up on _me_ ,” Sehun says, slowly straightening up, something he tends to do every time he is getting defensive; Junmyeon tries not to dwell on the fact he keeps noticing all those small things about the younger man. 

There is something sombre in the way the instructor lets those words roll off his tongue. And Junmyeon doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what Sehun means, what the instructor wants to hear from him other than the ugly truth that Junmyeon has no idea why he’s doing all of this anymore. He cannot let Sehun know everything, get to him, see him as he is. Cannot give Sehun a reason to leave him with nothing left.

His hands are shaking, anxiety devouring him in one go, reminding him of a similar moment, from his childhood, rich with hurt and loss. But it was someone important to him, it was in the past, and _here_ in front of him is Sehun. Someone who shouldn’t be that meaningful. Someone who shouldn’t hurt him while walking away.

Junmyeon can’t understand the way his own body responds to the instructor, making him look feeble, weak. Maybe that’s how he really is, after all. Maybe he deserves it.

Sehun still waits for the answer, and Junmyeon is scared he will leave, so has no other way than to deliver it to him.

“N-No, I gave up on my agenda to defeat you,” Junmyeon says, his voice faltering. “To beat you in the game.”

“An agenda? A game? Junmyeon, that’s— You really admit there was one,” Sehun says, closing his eyes for a second, breathing deeply. “I don't understand. _Why?_ ”

Junmyeon swallows his pride, almost choking on it.

“Honestly," he pauses, his cheeks a shade of delicate pink gradually turning ruby. "I just want for _someone_ to talk about me the same way they do about you. The king. The best of the best. This stuff.”

Sehun shakes his head as if he refuses to believe what Junmyeon just said, “Those are just jokes, you know. Just jokes.”

“Jokes,” Junmyeon repeats.

Silence looms over them. Sehun inhales, pursing his lips into a thin line.

“Okay, so… you want for someone to acknowledge you, that’s all?” 

“Yeah. Kinda,” Junmyeon barely says, feeling like crying, the dryness in his throat impossible to swallow.

“But Junmyeon, I bet some already do,” Sehun’s hand twitches, as if he wants to reach the latter, yet he backs off last second. "And, well, sometimes we all tend to say lots of various things. Some of them are just jokes. We exaggerate sometimes, so I don’t know why you would listen to _everything_ some random people say. Feels like... you’re exaggerating as well. There was no need for that whole game.”

Something in Junmyeon cracks, just like that time during his childhood when his parents divorced, breaking his dreams into sharp shards.

 _Exaggerating._ It’s always about that. His parents have always been thinking Junmyeon is taking everything too far. That he shouldn’t treat tennis as the only thing that matters. That he shouldn't try to draw their whole attention to him by throwing tantrums when they split apart. Maybe that’s his main problem. Maybe it always has been.

At this moment, Junmyeon wishes he could be like Sehun, even for one day. Easily noticeable. Valuable. Because in Junmyeon's eyes Sehun is an outstanding tennis player. An outstanding human being. It isn't hard to look up to him. _People_ do, and Junmyeon does as well.

Junmyeon comes to a sudden realization that whatever draws him to Sehun the whole time is admiration. Not jealousy. Not anger. Pure admiration. He admires Sehun with all of his heart. Wants Sehun's attention. Wants for Sehun to notice him _,_ to acknowledge him as a tennis player on the same level as him, as a worthy opponent, worthy human being, as someone more than just an annoying man putting the skids under his feet. That perhaps this _someone_ is Sehun himself.

His whole life Junmyeon has been feeling like too much and too little at the same time. Always craving understanding, attention, someone who he could look up to and follow their steps. Junmyeon has always needed to be admired, _loved_ on top of the respect, to be hugged by the comfort of someone treating him well.   
  
It all seems like an unreachable dream, even after all these years. Junmyeon has lost his father, but he isn't ready to lose Sehun as well, another certainly important figure in his life, even though he couldn't admit that to himself at first.

And now it’s all gone. All because of him.

Humiliation seeps into his skin. He hates that feeling, getting annoyed at himself, at his life, at Sehun as well, clearly not thinking straight in his state of utter grief. He’s hurt, and hurt Junmyeon cannot be easily calmed down. It won’t end well.

“I thought I needed to prove something,” Junmyeon finally answers after what seems like eternity, speaking out a small chunk of his whirling thoughts. “But there’s nothing to prove, huh? Isn’t that what you want to say? That I shouldn’t have started the game because I would never win anyway.” 

They look each other straight into the eyes, tension floating in the air around them like a phantom. None of them breaks the eye contact, but they sit still, searching for answers that might never come.

“Oh, please. Don’t twist my words. Don’t try to make a different meaning out of it,” Sehun grunts. 

But Junmyeon continues, too hurt and determined to stop, “I dare to say that since you knew about the game all along, you took my challenge to show me I will never be the best. Even if you don’t treat me as your enemy and you’ve been nice to me, it was only about this.”

Sehun looks confused, but also a bit sad. Junmyeon’s stomach twists a few times, an ugly, unwanted feeling travelling through him, nauseous and shaking, causing him to turn his gaze away. It will be easier like this. It has to end.  
  
Junmyeon doesn’t think he believes in his own words anymore. Sehun wouldn’t be that cruel, Junmyeon is sure he’s too kind, too indifferent to care about ruining others this way. Words just flow out of him without any explainable reason, words that mean nothing to him since they’re not true, but probably hurt Sehun the way Junmyeon was hurt as well. It's Junmyeon’s coping mechanism. A cruel measure to keep himself safe.

“Junmyeon, told you to stop. Can’t believe you think so low about me,” Sehun whispers bitterly.

“I’m—”

“You really don’t like me, do you?”

Sehun’s words make him turn around, be courageous enough to look the latter straight into his eyes again, holding too many feelings to handle, reflecting too many emotions in their darkness.

“It’s not— I’ve never said that,” Junmyeon manages to say, inexplicably anxious, feeling how he slips down the mountain he’s climbing, loses what he gained only recently. “I didn’t mean that.”

He realizes there’s moisture at the rim of his eyes. Tears sting while being blinked away. Junmyeon is naked, easy to attack, whatever shield he used to have long gone, even if he desperately tried to protect himself. Just like that, with one look at the instructor, he cannot hide anything.

Sehun is silent, shuffling his shoes on the clay, but his voice finally fills the air, “Why?”

“Why what?” Junmyeon asks back.

“Why are you so fixated on being the best?”

“Because—” Junmyeon stands up from the chair abruptly. “Because I want to be respected. Only this.”

And maybe _loved._ A word he suddenly wants to use, but doesn’t allow himself to, has _never_ allowed himself to say out loud. Because he has never thought he needs it, not before he met someone who could give it to him. Someone who could bear with his imperfections the way Sehun did those past weeks. 

Because what even is _love?_

“People can, and will respect you even though you're not the best. Thought such a mature man like you would understand that,” Sehun huffs, standing up as well, and Junmyeon is sick and tired of the stiffness of their conversation, of hurting the man next to him even further.

“ _People_ this, _people_ that. Stop saying what others would do. Start saying what _you_ think."

That was the key to Junmyeon’s insecurities. Hearing Sehun’s opinion. An opinion he couldn’t get, a few words that would ease the pain, but they never occur.

Sehun scoffs, brushes his hair out of his forehead, annoyed, visibly tired, “I think you should calm down, Junmyeon,” the instructor clenches his jaw. “I wanna help you understand something here. Just that.”

Junmyeon doesn’t want to hear anything more. He turns his back to Sehun so the other man wouldn’t see the tears falling down his face, cracking through the remnants of the collapsing barrier of protection Junmyeon desperately tried to cover himself with.

“Help me?" he says, voice loud, choking on the salty water on his cheeks. "I don’t want your stupid help. I don’t want your pity." 

Sehun moves. Junmyeon hears him shoving the chair and picking up his bag from the ground. He feels the warmness of another body next to him not much later, trying to escape the younger’s sight, squirming uncontrollably.

“You showed me that you’re the best here, the wisest, you know it all, and I get it, okay? I’m the dumb one. I understood, so just leave me alone,” Junmyeon adds after a while, not waiting for Sehun to make his move, trying to wound him as much as he could, end everything instantly; that’s what he was the best at, after all - making everyone leave. "Better help someone else instead. I don’t need you."

Yet he does. He _does_ need him.

And Junmyeon knows he is unfair treating Sehun this way, but he doesn’t know how to deal with this situation. He should probably tell Sehun about his past, about his main motive, but he’s scared. For the first time since forever, he’s scared of getting hurt, not because of current events, but over what happened years ago. Junmyeon is too broken and too stubborn to face his fears.

“I really want to knock some sense into you sometimes. You’re so oblivious,” Sehun mumbles, _too close,_ too calm in the middle of the storm.

“I don’t care,” Junmyeon utters, turning around, facing the younger. “I’m sure you don’t either.”

Sehun’s expression softens upon seeing Junmyeon’s state, first the raged eyes, then the frown on the instructor's face. The younger tries to touch him, but the shorter man moves away, swallowing his emotions alongside tears. Sehun looks even more hurt then, and it gnaws at Junmyeon’s feelings more than anything else.

“Junmyeon, you know that hurting you isn't my aim. I do care. Just—”

“Are you done?” Junmyeon forces himself to say, hastily brushing his tears away, sniffling loudly. “Because I am.”

His words hold the truth. He _is_ done. Done with the conversation, with tennis, with Sehun most of all, not strong enough to solve their misunderstandings. Done with his desire to be the best on the court, as well. Because it isn't his main goal after all.

Junmyeon waits for something that never comes, afraid he would let himself snap even more, or worse, let Sehun crawl into his heart. It _can’t_ happen. And Sehun is unusually quiet, not daring to say a word, even though he tries to form an answer, his lips opening and closing multiple times. It’s over. _Everything._

Junmyeon simply leaves, once again not looking back. They part ways in silence that screams louder than their voices ever could. This time it seems it was him who defeated Sehun. But why does _he_ feel defeated as well?

🎾

"You should..."

"I should apologize? Feel like shit? Stop being an asshole? Admit that he's not my enemy anymore, that maybe I _like_ him, that I’m tired of constantly being cold, unwanted, understated? I feel all that and even more, Kyungsoo. Thank you," Junmyeon snaps.

Kyungsoo is not moving from his spot by the entrance to Junmyeon’s cubicle, staring at the back of his friend’s head with a worried expression gracing his face, almost dropping the biggest mug of coffee he could find at the company. 

"I wanted to say you should rest, cause you’ve been working so hard recently. But I feel like... something else happened?"

Junmyeon stares at Kyungsoo emotionlessly. It definitely isn’t something he expected to hear. He has been too caught up in his own misery to even notice what is going on around him, or how tired he actually is, and even though he feels a wave of exhaustion taking over his body, Junmyeon tries to play it cool. He stands up, the chair empty of his weight creaking loudly, and takes the drink from Kyungsoo’s hands with a thankful half-smile. 

"I think I will take a nap and be okay. Don’t worry," Junmyeon assures, but it doesn't sound convincing at all.

Junmyeon knows he won’t be okay, though. Kyungsoo either. He still worries about Junmyeon, it’s visible in his posture, in his eyes, in the way his lips try to curl into a smile, but they can’t. They are best friends after all, always sticking together, through the best and the worst. 

And Junmyeon understands. How couldn’t Kyungsoo be concerned, seeing his friend looking like he had run a marathon or two - a perfect sign of something bothering the man, something more significant than paperwork or even tennis. 

_Someone_ is on Junmyeon’s mind. They both know, but let it slide for now, burying themselves under the mountains of paperwork, certainly not the ones Junmyeon wanted to climb.

🎾

Junmyeon has decided he actually hates tennis and doesn’t need that kind of hobby anymore. 

It’s pointless. Running after the ball in the summer heat, trying to hit it with some kind of big stick, caring about unnecessary rules? What a waste of time. And Tuesdays… Tuesdays shouldn’t be any different than the rest of the weekdays. It’s unfair to wait for something so eagerly to let it distract you from your delightful office job. 

Junmyeon is a diligent employee, sacrificing himself and his life for the sake of counting numbers in computer programmes, contributing to creating a better future for generations. Or... something like that.   
  
He definitely doesn’t need anything or _anyone_ else than his laptop, coffee, and the huge, usually broken printer on the third floor of the company. Maybe except for Kyungsoo. He is a constant in Junmyeon's life, without any doubt.

Of course, his best friend notices everything immediately and tries to drag him to the tennis club two Tuesdays in a row. Nevertheless, Junmyeon is stubborn. And he hates tennis, and _every_ tennis player too, especially instructors. That's official.

Although, at the end of the second week of his workaholic life, something shifts. Kyungsoo has such an enraged look on his face, Junmyeon is actually scared of him for the first time in his life. Or maybe it’s because his friend surprises him while he is washing his face in the bathroom, looking at his unstyled hair and dark bags under the eyes. Who wouldn’t get frightened seeing themselves in that state.

Junmyeon eventually gives up and loses the will to do anything that day. 

He lets Kyungsoo drag him to his apartment, make him change into more comfortable clothes, and tuck him in his own bed. Sleeping like a baby, he is not dreaming about anything particular at all, swimming across the darkness with an empty mind. 

When Junmyeon wakes up a few hours later, Kyungsoo feeds him some soup tasting like heaven on his tongue graced only with instant food those past busy days. For a moment everything seems calmer, less overwhelming, and Junmyeon is even ready to forget about his distress. At least before Kyungsoo decides to throw a bomb on him.

“Next week we’re going to the courts. Don’t wanna hear no for an answer,” Kyungsoo says before grabbing an empty bowl and washing it thoroughly, throwing glances at Junmyeon the whole time.

“I have told you—”

“I know what you have told me, Junmyeon,” Kyungsoo says firmly. “And you know what? I don’t care. You need to chill a bit, cause you're a walking misery. Stop dwelling on that.”

Junmyeon puffs out his cheeks thinking about returning to playing tennis, about… _him._ It only makes him pout more, “I won’t chill there. You know why.”

It’s obvious Junmyeon would break down in front of his friend, sooner or later. And he did, one time after their workday, when Jongin appeared in front of the company to pick Kyungsoo up and take him on a date. 

Seeing the tennis instructor was like a trigger releasing all of his darkest thoughts. Junmyeon almost started crying in the middle of the pavement, scaring the two other men.   
  
Kyungsoo stayed by his side for almost two hours, listening to the whole story of his yet another failure, of his disappointment, of humiliation, calming him down, sacrificing a big part of his meeting as a result. It only assured Junmyeon even more that he doesn’t deserve a friend like Do Kyungsoo.

“Jun, you are hurt, I get it, but it’s been some time. We have talked about this. Jongin is sure Sehun is upset about this situation as well, but he won’t do anything stupid when you show up. I’m not sure about you, though,” Kyungsoo mutters sofly, dropping the cloth he used to dry the bowl in order to comb Junmyeon’s hair, actually a bit greasy and gross, but the man doesn’t even flinch. "We have to try to bring you back to normality. You _have to_ face your fears."

Junmyeon is almost crying. He cries too easily lately.

“I’m not afraid of Sehun himself. I'm afraid he doesn't want to talk to me. I just… even if I meet him, I won’t even look his way. I shouldn’t have said all of that," Junmyeon shifts in his chair, lowering his voice, trailing off. "Besides, I don’t know if tennis brings me joy anymore."

Kyungsoo squeezes his shoulders in a comforting manner. Junmyeon feels them stiffen even more instead.

“Of course it does. You still love it. And don’t worry about Sehun, okay? We’ll decide what to do with that matter when you finally feel a bit better.”

Junmyeon isn’t sure whether it’s a wise decision or not. Going back to the courts, facing Sehun, who _of course_ will be there, sounds like going straight into the fire pit, however, he can’t lie to himself and Kyungsoo anymore. Every part of him is itching to play again, despite trying to ignore the longing for visiting the club.

Damned if he does, damned if he doesn’t. Junmyeon sighs. Kyungsoo treats it as a silent agreement.

“Great! You won’t regret it. We will play a great match together, I’ve missed it," Kyungsoo exclaims excitedly.

Junmyeon has missed it too, actually feeling excited at the thought of touching the clay surface with his shoes, releasing all the troubles with every hit of the racket.  
  
He has also missed the sight of someone else doing that, as much as he wanted to convince himself he doesn’t. Someone maddeningly good looking, with enchanting smile and naughty strands of copper falling into their eyes whenever the tall body is shifting on the court in an immaculate manner. 

_Someone_ who admittedly happens to hold a special place in Junmyeon’s heart.

🎾

It’s fine. To his surprise, they’ve been playing for two whole hours without any horrible incidents involving any third party, without hasty thoughts, panic attacks, or tears. They simply keep passing the ball, and Junmyeon feels as the stress of those weeks, filled with nothing but his grief and anxiety, drifts away.

The lack of seeing a _certain someone_ is supposed to relieve him, taking a huge weight off his shoulders, yet on the contrary to that, Junmyeon can sense the unusual emptiness in his heart, maybe even a hint of something that he doesn’t want to call disappointment,but it’s _exactly_ that. 

There are other people playing around them, but Junmyeon pays no attention to anyone until Minseok appears, immediately cradling him close. For the first time he isn’t frustrated hearing that loud laugh, almost melting in Minseok’s embrace, too warm and too sticky to be pleasurable in other circumstances, yet soothing right here and now.  
  
Minseok is sickeningly clingy, so after a while Junmyeon is tired of him, silently begging Kyungsoo to do something, darting knowingly between the other man and his friend. But Kyungsoo only keeps smiling, having too much pleasure in Junmyeon’s suffering. 

Alright, maybe he is enjoying that sudden wave of affection in some way, but one hug is enough. A whole bunch of them feels like invading his, very sweaty, personal space.   
  
He almost pushes the man aside gently, but Minseok beats him to it, leaving Junmyeon in order to welcome another person. Junmyeon begs, wishes, _prays_ it's Jongin. But fate is never on his side, so of course it has to be no one else than Sehun himself.

Junmyeon doesn't know what to do. He panics, tries to run away, but Kyungsoo's strong grip keeps him in place. Junmyeon’s gaze falls to the ground, cowardice not letting him look at Sehun, and he senses his eyes filling up with unnecessary tears.

Kyungsoo, instead of getting into his protective mode, seems unusually content with seeing the young instructor. The atmosphere seems too light. Way lighter than expected.  
  
Junmyeon feels invisible among the three men sharing handshakes and throwing cheerful smiles. It is, before Sehun finally dares to look at him, exactly at the same time Junmyeon decides to steal a glance at the other man as well, their eyes catching each other halfway.

Junmyeon almost curls himself up like a hedgehog, perplexed, startled by the unexpected, unveiling view. Because it is as beautiful as ever. It’s Sehun, after all. His sparkling eyes, his freshly cut hair, his exposed neck, pink lips, his whole body, _him._

During the time they haven’t seen each other, Junmyeon admitted to himself that, unquestionably, the instructor _is_ attractive. Not that he has ever thought differently anyway, only someone blind wouldn’t see the perfection of Oh Sehun, yet he hasn't had the need to pay _that_ much attention to it before.  
  
It was all about the tennis skills at first, evolving into _something more_. Junmyeon has been thinking about the other man way too often than he should. Of course he didn’t want to meet him for now, _of course_ he didn’t want to talk to him, but even if he tried so hard to convince himself about that, the sparks of excitement in his stomach were saying otherwise. 

Junmyeon, well… Junmyeon is so miserably enamoured by Sehun. It is still strange for him to think like that, instead of convincing himself it's the rivalry causing him to feel that way, but he has been talking to Kyungsoo, his voice of reason, _a_ _lot_ , and his friend opened his eyes to some matters Junmyeon couldn’t see earlier.  
  
Like the fact that maybe, just maybe, instead of acting on his strong emotions, he should have let Sehun say everything he wanted to say, and Junmyeon should have explained what he's feeling as well. Maybe Junmyeon should finally learn how to deal with his smaller and bigger demons instead of hiding behind the tennis agenda. Maybe Sehun cares, after all. Maybe.

There is no time to dwell on it, though. The sudden realization of his own state hits him, very hard. Junmyeon can’t believe he is literally showing himself to Sehun from the worst side, being a walking representation of lots of sleepless nights and restless thoughts. Showing him how much their conversation affected him. Exposing himself completely yet again.

Even looking like a failure, feeling even more that way, he would have smiled at the younger, initiate that stupid small talk, not able to stop his body from acting its own way, if not for the sad, hurt look in Sehun’s eyes, forcing his own face to twitch into a weird, hurtful expression as well. 

Lack of any words filling the air is uncomfortably obvious. Sehun stares at Junmyeon, Kyungsoo and Minseok at Sehun, and Junmyeon averts his gaze to the ground, somewhat ashamed. Isn't it that moment in which he should say that he’s sorry?

He can’t say anything, though, even if he desperately wants to, because his voice would probably get lost among Minseok's loudness. The joyful man clutches tightly to Sehun’s arm and tries to perform his amazing, amicable gesture of help towards Junmyeon, dragging the young instructor away, asking him about something unimportant. 

Junmyeon should feel thankful. He really should. Yet he can’t.

At the exact moment, watching a bit startled Sehun looking at him from the slight distance, the younger’s arm occupied by Minseok, Junmyeon can’t focus on anything else than on the fact that he is simply jealous. Jealous of the proximity Minseok could share with the instructor. Of the untroubled relationship between the two.

A lone thought pops in Junmyeon’s mind, reassuring him that in some way, he could have that too. Maybe in another life, where he wouldn’t be so stubborn and afraid of any form of closure. Instead of that, there is a push and pull strategy between the two. More pushing than pulling.

Kyungsoo notices the blank expression on Junmyeon’s face, nudging him in the ribs. He understands, and Junmyeon is extremely grateful when his friend finally drags him from the court instead of pushing him into the deepest waters, because he is afraid he would say too much once again, this time probably going in a completely opposite direction than spitting out his hidden fear and hurt.

Somewhere from the corner of his eyes, he sees Sehun trying to steal a glance at him, and some part of Junmyeon hopes that the taller one will say something. But he doesn’t. There’s a hint of hesitation, albeit the instructor slowly averts his gaze, listening to Minseok, nodding his head at something the man is saying to him with agitation.

Disappointment blooms somewhere at the back of Junmyeon’s mind, ugly and increasingly unpleasant, laced with doubt. Maybe the mountain is too steep this time. Maybe Junmyeon won’t be able to climb it.

🎾

It isn't Junmyeon's style to simply, casually clarify a misunderstanding, not to mention apologize to someone like every other person would do. No, Kim Junmyeon is too proud to do that most of the time. 

He has already accepted the fact that he shouldn’t behave like a bratty jerk towards Sehun. It was a tough nut to crack, but Junmyeon is intent to get a grip on his life, so there’s no hurdle he can’t overcome. At least theoretically.

It’s all about those things that seem to be life-changing, spectacular, making the Earth spin in the opposite direction in Junmyeon’s own little universe. He keeps dreaming too big sometimes, wanting too much at once, feeling too little when he should, too much when he shouldn't. The lack of consideration is his _real_ enemy as well.

Kyungsoo assures Junmyeon it’s okay. That it makes him human, that it’s normal to struggle, and Junmyeon understands, he does, but he’s just tired, and equally disappointed in himself. He has been oblivious to solving his own situation for way too long. The silence between him and Sehun is the first matter Junmyeon wants to solve once and for all.

There wouldn’t be any problem if not for his stubbornness and impulsiveness. Junmyeon takes that fully on himself. Sehun obviously couldn’t read Junmyeon’s mind and realize what’s going on, so he shouldn’t guilt trip the younger man into anything. Sehun had his part in the whole argument as well, but maybe it would look differently if only the older could take some things more calmly.

Junmyeon is not expecting anything more than being on good terms with Sehun. He solely hopes it will be enough for him to hear that the younger forgives him once again, and certainly doesn’t expect to get closer to the instructor, not after he made a fool of himself in front of the man, the situation still hard to swallow, a lump in his moral system. 

Expectations aren't the needs, though, and Junmyeon undoubtedly needs a few things in his life.

First of all, a good sleep. Instead of resting he keeps thinking of the ways to talk to Sehun, and maybe, just maybe, of the happily ever after somewhere along the way. 

Second of all, Sehun's smile. Junmyeon absolutely adores the way the younger's lips curl up in a gesture of joy, breaking the stony expression Sehun is wearing most of the time. It feels like eating the sweetest candy, the most unhealthy one, the one making your teeth almost rotten, but you still devour it to feel the overwhelming pleasure. Junmyeon has never thought he would need that kind of feeling in his life. Yet he does.

The best way to fill his needs is to apologize, but apologizing seems like a disease. The irony is that, the more Junmyeon cares about someone's forgiveness, the harder it’s for him to say _sorry,_ afraid of messing it all up.  
  
So, he has a marvellous idea to make Sehun come to him first, instead of running after the younger and be _completely_ exposed to the face-to-face rejection. He's had enough of humiliation those past few weeks. It’s his goal to diminish it the most he could.

"Are you meeting Baekhyun today?” Kyungsoo asks when they’re walking to the dressing room before practice. “Thought you wanted to do it on Friday. Jongin told me he plays with kids then."

"Baekhyun?" Junmyeon says, taken aback, but soon he understands, noticing Kyungsoo's gaze focused on the bunch of various energy bars in his hands. " _Oh_."

Initially his plan involved only one candy bar, until it dawned on him that he has no idea what Sehun even likes. It’s safe to pick a few flavours, increasing the chance to hit the spot. A smart move.

"Oh?"

"I-It's for someone else."

"Then go and give it to _him_."

"I'll just—" Junmyeon pauses. "Kyungsoo, give that to Jongin so he can leave it somewhere for Sehun."

His friend looks at him like he has two heads, "Junmyeon. Do it yourself."

"No!” Junmyeon panics, pushing the sweets into Kyungsoo’s palm. “It's better this way. I attached a small note. Sehun will know who left it for him."

The note is stupidly simple, Junmyeon has to admit, but he couldn’t think about anything else that wouldn’t discourage the instructor. He doesn’t know if _i'm_ _sorry. could we talk?_ _today 6pm on the first court_ is enough to make Sehun pay attention to him, yet he has to try.

Kyungsoo visibly isn't convinced, staring at Junmyeon with his well-known questionable expression. Later, his best friend does what he’s been asked for anyway, knowing that Junmyeon is too stubborn to let it go.

But Junmyeon should have known better. Even the thing as easy as that has to go wrong. The odds are never in his favor, so of course this time couldn't be different.   
  
He is anxiously walking around the place, repeating his apology speech, impatiently waiting for Sehun to react to his small surprise and appear any minute, but unfortunately, he meets with someone else's reaction instead.

"Junmyeon, of course we can talk," Junmyeon flinches, hearing a different voice than he expected. "Don't know why you're sorry. Is it because you didn't answer when I greeted you today? I don't mind. It's okay."

Yixing is beaming at him, showing his dimples, eyes gleaming with happiness. Junmyeon can’t move from his spot even by an inch. It has to be a prank. There’s no other way.

But Yixing is talking, and talking. And talking.

"Thanks for the energy bars, that’s lovely. Actually, well, I wanted to ask you to go out with me some time ago, but I wasn’t sure if you would agree. Now that you reached out to me, you can maybe, you know, make it up to me? I mean, the thing you’re sorry for, whatever it is. What about tomorrow? I finish my shift at 5pm, so we can go somewhere—"

Junmyeon can’t even focus on Yixing's words anymore, the mess of thoughts filling every free spot of his mind taking all of his attention away from the man.

He doesn't know what's going on, but he is sure about one thing. Kyungsoo and Jongin will regret it.

🎾

His life is a joke. A poor, very unfunny joke. Junmyeon feels it more than ever before, resting his forehead on the wall, the coldness of it soothing his shaking nerves.

The piece of paper with a phone number scribbled on it, tightly clutched in his hand, hurts the inside of his palm as if it's burning with real fire. Junmyeon wants nothing more than to forget he even got the thing in the first place. Maybe he can pretend there's another number there. He wishes it was.

The answer to Yixing's offer was neither yes nor no. Junmyeon doesn’t feel like going on any meeting with the man, at the same time he doesn’t know what’s really keeping him from doing it.  
  
It's not because the idea is not appealing as a whole. He likes Yixing, he really does. Who wouldn’t? The man is kind, funny, and helpful, yet despite all of those qualities creating a great candidate for a potential date, it just doesn’t click in Junmyeon’s mind. He can’t help but let his thoughts wander to Sehun instead. 

Looking at their interactions from a different point of view, Sehun is also nothing but kind and helpful to Junmyeon. Apart from that, the younger man has a way to make him smile, feel warm inside, and most of all, step out of his comfort zone. Much to Junmyeon's dismay, being close to Sehun involves those damn butterflies and heart fluttering he never feels being with anyone else.

But Sehun is inexplicably close yet so far. It’s not like there’s even a _possibility_ of a date for the two of them, and still, Junmyeon is sure that going out with Yixing would somehow make the whole situation worse. Especially because Yixing, sweet and incredibly affectionate Yixing, doesn’t deserve to be a second choice.

The thought of even having a choice makes Junmyeon nauseous. The thought of Sehun being the _first one_ even more so.

Junmyeon knows he has screwed another thing up. One time when his confidence is needed, it suddenly abandons him, kicking him in the guts as a goodbye. He’s lost his whole life, straying onto the road called life, but recently it’s unbearable, and he’s wandering around without any cause, looking for a place to hide and spend the rest of his days there.

"Tough day?"

"You have no idea," Junmyeon answers without thinking much, lifting his head off the wall, shooting a glance at the owner of the voice, not sure whether he is dreaming or not.

Sehun is standing next to him, passing him a bottle of water. Junmyeon only stares at it dumbly. The younger shakes the plastic container, implying that his gesture is genuine, so he finally takes it and drinks some.

Junmyeon _has to_ be dreaming. But Sehun feels awfully real, and so does his shy smile, shiny eyes, and a little hunched wide shoulders. Fortunately, Junmyeon hears the instructor’s voice, glad he doesn’t have to speak first, because he’s sure he would be a mess and embarrass himself. 

"Don’t want to sound rude, and also it's not my business at all, but—," Sehun leans against the wall right next to Junmyeon, tilting his head. "I’ve always been thinking that dates lift up your mood rather than the other way round."

Junmyeon almost chokes, looking at the latter with horror and confusion drawn all over his face, "What?"

"Yixing told me you're going on a date with him," Sehun fiddles with his fingers in the same manner he did the first time they met, like a sheepish little boy. "Or something like that."

Junmyeon's heart almost stops beating. 

"Kind of. There’s, um, a possibility of it, yes," he inhales sharply, convinced that someone should be taught how to keep the tongue behind their teeth sometimes.

Junmyeon isn't sure why Sehun cares about it, still not believing that the instructor even approached him himself, but he would lie saying he isn't glad. Sehun is talking to him after all, and he came to him on his own, even if Junmyeon’s genius plan to lure the younger was a fiasco. Well, maybe the topic of their conversation isn't the one Junmyeon has been dreaming about, but it’s _something_. 

"Should I be jealous?" Sehun grumbles silently, catching Junmyeon off guard.

"J-Jealous?" Junmyeon stutters.

"Jealous. Because of Yixing."

The weird tickling in Junmyeon's stomach increases, suddenly making him a hundred times more nauseous, "You have no right to be."

Sehun laughs. Just like that.

"I'm sure I can feel or do what I want," the instructor says, shrugging his shoulders in a somewhat nonchalant way that looks more stiff than relaxed.

Junmyeon assures himself it has to be a dream. There’s no other way Sehun would say something like that. Or maybe it’s a part of the Yixing prank. Something is definitely wrong, and Junmyeon doesn’t like the way he feels about it.

"That’s not— I mean, you shouldn't be jealous. There is no reason for you to be. Why would you… be jealous," Junmyeon scoffs, bemused.

The younger man smiles, half-heartedly, breaking Junmyeon's temporarily mended heart into thousands of pieces. Junmyeon can’t hold himself back anymore, looking worriedly at the younger man.

"I'd love to tell you, but I'm already late," Sehun mutters silently.

"Sehun," Junmyeon almost shouts, his hand unconsciously reaching for the latter, catching the rim of his shirt, desperately stopping him from leaving. "I didn't— I didn't want our conversation to look like that."

Sehun peeks at the hand gripping his shirt. The instructor's eyes wander to Junmyeon's face after a while, and the shorter man almost loses his breath from the intensity hidden behind the dark pupils.

"We can talk later," the younger says using his plain, emotionless voice, but a spark of excitement is dancing in his eyes. "If you want."

It’s Junmyeon's chance to shine. He has to be brave.

"Mind if I drive you home? After you're finished," Junmyeon pants, the thumping of his heart returning to life so strong he can barely stand still. "Cause you're finished for today after that practice now, right?"

Of course, he doesn’t feel the need to mention that he knows Sehun is indeed free. Junmyeon literally forced the information out of Jongin, preparing that as a part of his plan. 

"Yeah. Sure. It would be nice,” the younger agrees.

Junmyeon nods, mouth agape, taking his hand off Sehun's shirt as quickly as possible. The awkwardness mixed with the younger’s overwhelming demeanor is like a blanket covering his common sense. He couldn't force himself to speak without stuttering.

"O-Okay. Okay, I will wait for you."

"Okay,” Sehun lifts the corner of his lips faintly, leaving Junmyeon alone to deal with his rosy cheeks and millions of gnawing thoughts.

He just made one step forward after taking at least ten backwards. Murdering his sly friends would have to wait, after all. 

🎾

"It's so good to come back home not looking like a wet dog," Sehun closes his eyes, relaxing in the front seat of Junmyeon's car. "I usually go by bus. You can only imagine how awful it is in the summer, especially if it's packed."

Junmyeon only hums, focusing on the road instead. Or rather _trying_ to focus.

It’s not an easy task to do, because Sehun, with his hair messily wavy after the shower, wearing fitting casual clothes, absentmindedly tapping his foot to the rhythm of the music, is like a lucid dream, a fleeting, captivating moment you don't want to miss. Like a butterfly ready to fly away as you're trying to reach it.

Junmyeon can’t believe it turned out this way out of sudden. Sehun is in his car. So close to him. It isn't possible to think straight.

However, the relish spreading through Junmyeon's body, caused by the proximity of the younger man, is constantly being repressed by the nervousness of the expected conversation. Junmyeon doesn’t know how Sehun is able to be _that_ calm, while he on the other hand can barely breathe, anxious, allured by the scent of the younger's shampoo, something flowery and sweet. 

His mind is completely hazy by the end of the drive. They reach their destination spending the time in utter silence, disturbed only by the radio and subdued blowing of the air conditioner. Junmyeon is not sure what to say, every word he has prepared suddenly slipping out of his mind, thus he decides to look around at the surroundings, admiring the calm neighbourhood Sehun lives in. 

The younger impatiently wiggles in the seat beside him, intently glancing at Junmyeon's side profile. Sehun's eyes linger on his face, disturbing like the rays of sunshine waking you up in the very morning, sharpening your senses. Junmyeon can’t muster up the courage to turn his head, meet the instructor's prying gaze. After a silent while they both unbuckle their seatbelts, staying in the car, waiting for one of them to make a move.

"You seem nervous," Sehun murmurs, saving the situation, moving his hand over the leather covering the car seat, rubbing small circles with his long fingers. "Don’t be. Let’s just talk."

Junmyeon takes a deep breath, focusing on the younger's hands like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. He dreads the talk, he's terrified, but he came too far to let his fear take control.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let my emotions control me to this extent back then. I-I didn’t mean to upset you."

"It's okay," Sehun sounds less confident, as if he is the one being the most apologetic, and Junmyeon feels the unpleasant knot tightening on his stomach. "It happened, no need to dwell on it. I’m sorry, too. I was confused and let my emotions do their job."

Sehun's voice is soft, like silk, like something luxurious, something that Junmyeon doesn't deserve. And then Sehun smiles, in the most gentle, genuine way, and suddenly everything falls apart. Junmyeon mellows, immediately comforted, less guilty. It’s not fair to feel this way. It's not all that has to be said. It can't end like this.

"It shouldn't have happened," he deadpans, looking at the steering wheel instead. "Nothing here is your fault. It's me."

"We both messed up. Too many words were said, but we're only humans, Junmyeon, so don't be so hard on yourself."

Inhale. Exhale. A few long, relaxing breaths leave Junmyeon's chest. Being hard on himself is his speciality, his main personality trait, but Sehun doesn't understand. No one understands. 

"It's— It's something from my past that made me act this way. It's stupid I let it influence me, even now," Junmyeon says, not looking in Sehun's direction.

Sehun shifts in his position, putting his arm on the headrest of Junmyeon’s seat, leaning closer over the space between them.

"Junmyeon, told you it's fine. You don't have to— Don't have to force yourself to tell me something personal. I understand."

Junmyeon almost gives up, but something pushes him not to, even with Sehun’s assurance. It’s way harder with the instructor’s presence so close to him, with the heat of his body, the scent of his freshly showered skin. There’s almost no air left in the car when Junmyeon finally dares to speak, "W-What if I want to tell you? Will you listen?"

Sehun freezes for a moment, looking for something in Junmyeon's eyes, something that he apparently finds after a short while, because he nods his head in confirmation.

"Of course," the younger answers, turning down the radio silently humming in the background. "Of course I will listen."

Junmyeon closes his eyes, feeling slightly relieved yet still anxious, wondering why Sehun is so kind to him, what he did to deserve it other than showing the instructor his true, worst side all the time.  
  
Even if it’s not necessarily needed, Sehun deserves an explanation. If he decides it will be their last conversation ever, then at least they will be on a neutral ground, letting everything stay far behind.

"You know, my father has always been telling me I have to be the best. That I won't be if I'm not at the top," Junmyeon starts, leans back in his seat, stealing glances at Sehun listening to him with full attention. "When I pursued tennis, it was my main aim. And I almost was there once, at the top, but it has been taken away from me."

Junmyeon stops then, gathers his thoughts for a while.

"Then, just... no one ever treated me seriously apart from Kyungsoo. Not even my own family. My dad was my biggest role model, but he left me alone. Left us alone. Me and my mom. And I’ve needed some... validation. I’ve simply wanted to be cared for. For my dreams to be respected as well."

Sehun doesn’t say anything when Junmyeon catches a sob trying to escape his lips. The younger's gaze is burning his skin more than the sun falling through the windshield, but it’s a pleasurable warmth, encouraging him to speak.

"I’ve always wanted to achieve _something,_ something more than having a mundane life, but all I got is living with the sense of failure that I can’t get rid of. That's why I'm bitter. That's why I'm so fixated on being the best," Junmyeon says, doing everything not to burst into tears, his teeth painfully sinking into his lower lip. "I know that's silly, and definitely not an excuse for acting like I did, but I wanted you to know… it's not because of you. I don’t hate you.”

Sehun shakes his head gently, "Junmyeon—"

"I understood your words wrongly. The exaggerating thing. Of course, you didn't mean— And my stupid mind told me you wouldn't care— How could I even know what you wanna do— I'm blabbering. I'll shut up."

Junmyeon waits for Sehun to start laughing, or just brush it all off, anything. Yet, the younger stays silent, staring at him intently. In a weird way, it doesn’t matter to him what the instructor will do. It already is enough that he knows.

" _Jun._ Let me tell you something," Sehun clumsily moves, shifting in his position once again, trying to sit as close to Junmyeon as possible. "I understand that’s important to you, but nevertheless, being at the top is always temporary. There will always be someone better, faster, and stronger after some time. You know what I think?"

Junmyeon shakes his head, choking on his own unspoken words, on the suffocating air filling the car. Sehun smiles, a beautiful grin rich with kindness.

"To me, being the best means doing your best. Putting all your effort and passion into something. And you do, Junmyeon," Sehun smiles and suddenly Junmyeon feels the younger's hand on his, the unexpected gesture painting the porcelain skin on his cheeks an intense pink colour. "That's why you're amazing."

Junmyeon swallows harshly when Sehun's gaze warms his skin even more.

Sehun continues, holding Junmyeon's hand with tenderness, "No matter how many times you fall, you always try to get up. It's something that I respect more than some titles. And I like you the way you are. I do.”

Sehun is good with words. The instructor could easily say that to lift Junmyeon's spirits, out of pity, but something in Sehun's voice, in the way his hand rests on Junmyeon's smaller, shaky one, tells him that all the younger said is genuine. 

Junmyeon feels his heart being mended again, all the sharp pieces glued together at once, because Sehun praised him, even more, he saw through him, noticing more than just his challenging personality and his stubbornness. Almost like the younger has seen his soul, something that no one usually wanted to see, and he even touched it, made it warm despite the coldness of Junmyeon's demeanor. That’s more than Junmyeon has ever expected. It feels better than anything he has ever dreamed of.

The biggest surprise, waking up a part of him that has been hibernating for a long time, is that Sehun said he _likes_ Junmyeon. And Junmyeon, as much as it’s hard to admit, reciprocates the feeling. He does, even though he wouldn't say it out loud. 

"How is it that you always know what to say?" Junmyeon whispers, out of any coherent words, not knowing how else to respond.

Sehun smiles even wider.

"It's called being wise and witty," the younger laughs, patting Junmyeon's hand, probably not aware how much it affects the smaller man. "I meant _every_ word I said."

"I-I know. Thank you. For everything."

"No need to," Sehun smiles warmly. "I’m glad you told me how you feel.” 

“Am I forgiven?” Junmyeon says so quickly it turns out as an unclear blabber.

Sehun gets the meaning, though. His gaze falls down on their hands, on Junmyeon shaking from the wave of emotions, finally on the shorter man's eyes, and Junmyeon finds himself drowning in an ocean of Sehun’s soul.

“I’ve never been angry at you, probably more upset," Sehun shrugs tentatively. "I wanted you to trust me, and I guess you do, so we’re even now.”

Junmyeon blushes even more if that’s possible. He’s acting like a teenager finding his first crush, and he will definitely overthink that moment later, but right now all he can think about is Sehun.

“Oh. That’s… good. Great,” Junmyeon deadpans.

Their eyes never leave each other. The tension is rising high. It’s scary, but also thrilling, putting him on cloud nine, somewhere where he would love to stay for longer this time. Junmyeon doesn’t want for Sehun to stop smiling nor touching his hand, especially when the younger grabs the door handle, ready to get out of the car. Junmyeon's mood drops in a millisecond.

“So, see you tomorrow at the tennis club?” Sehun raises his brow, curiosity flashing somewhere in the corner of his eyes

Junmyeon turns his head away, hiding his unstoppable smile, breaking the silent, enigmatic conversation of their pupils. There is a hint of challenge in the way Sehun’s gaze never leaves Junmyeon's body, their fingers brushing each other.  
  
It’s a very tricky question. Tomorrow. Yixing. What is he supposed to do? 

"After your date, I mean. Cause I guess you're going," Sehun adds after a while.

"Uh yeah, the date. I don't know," Junmyeon says without thinking much, their eyes meeting yet again, too warm, too glossy. "Anyway, I... will come."

Sehun smiles so much Junmyeon is afraid his jaw may hurt. Junmyeon casts a smile as well, reciprocating the simple gesture, making the younger even more vibrant, stirring up even more bubbling feelings. Those quaint intruders called butterflies fill Junmyeon's gut. They seem to make themselves at home there already.

"Alright," Sehun says, smirking. "But if I see you with hickeys, I'll be disappointed."

Junmyeon lets out a shaky breath, caught off guard countless times this day. He has no idea what game Sehun wants to play, but he lets the younger drag him into it, being no less cheeky.

"I'll make sure to have lots of them, then," he stutters out, suddenly more confident and playful, surprising even himself. _Is he… flirting?_

Sehun's eyes darken upon hearing those words. 

The instructor leans dangerously close to Junmyeon, as much as it’s possible in the small space of the car, his warm breath tickling the bare skin of Junmyeon's neck. The older gulps, jerking away, pushing his back into the door, feeling the hard, weirdly cold surface digging into his skin through his clothes.

"If you say so," Sehun mutters, his eyes wandering over Junmyeon. "See you tomorrow, Jun.” 

And after that, the younger steps out of the car, as if they didn't share a weirdly intimate moment just a second earlier, as if he didn't make Junmyeon breathless and vulnerable on the spot.

Junmyeon tries to gather himself, sitting up straight, brushing his hair away from his eyes, following Sehun's every move while he walks across the street. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was keeping, suddenly light without the weight of the world on his shoulders.  
  
Not exactly of his own will, he feels something he has desperately longed for his whole life, yet never truly experienced. His heart leaps in his chest in a new rhythm, reminding Junmyeon of the euphoric feeling of fulfilling a long-desired dream, the one you keep only to yourself, at the bottom of your heart. Of the butterflies fluttering their wings within him.  
  
Junmyeon isn’t exactly sure what’s going on, but he tries to enjoy the moment without having second thoughts, at least for now. A lot has happened during the day, way too much than he has expected, and he feels fatigue taking over him. His plan might not have worked the way it was supposed to, but maybe it’s even for the better.

He’s tired, exhausted, but serotonin buzzes through his body. Starting a new, somewhat unexpected chapter of his life, is like a fresh breeze on the hottest summer day. A helping hand letting him climb up his mountains.

🎾

Junmyeon is sure he’s looking at an angel.

Sehun reminds him of one, being sprawled on the surface of the court, arms spread wide like wings, his body covered in white, reflecting the sunlight. The younger's eyes are closed, as if he's deeply asleep, engulfed in the warmth, captured by the dimming light. Junmyeon thinks he has never seen anyone more beautiful.

His heart seems to have imaginary wings as well, pushing him in Sehun's direction, and Junmyeon finds himself lying down next to the other man, on the hard yet pleasurably warm ground.  
  
Sehun's eyes flutter open lazily. He waits no more to roll on his side, facing Junmyeon. Their gazes lock, melting into the sea of dark brown hues, sunkissed with sparkles of gold. The younger smiles, breaking the ice, turning it into a puddle of endearment as his dark pupils are wandering from Junmyeon's face to his neck multiple times.

Junmyeon can't stop the sudden giggle coming out of him, "Checking the hickey situation?"

Sehun nods, his hair brushing the clay.

"Don't see any. The date had to be lame."

"There was no date in the first place," Junmyeon answers, averting his gaze to the sky, pink and orange, cloudless.

He peeks at the younger man after a short while, exactly when Sehun widens his eyes in surprise that turns into a weirdly content and sweet expression. Junmyeon wants to coo at how _adorable_ he looks doing that.

"No way. You dumped Yixing, you heartless man? He's a sweetheart," Sehun says with high, squeaky voice.

Junmyeon rolls his eyes. That’s definitely one of the ways to explain what he’s done, but in reality it wasn’t that dramatic. He decided to come to the courts instead of spending time with Yixing. Somehow, it was an obvious choice, "I didn't dump him, just politely declined.”

Sehun hums at that, somehow not convinced.

"What? I'm a gentleman," Junmyeon huffs.

"Sure you are,” the younger snorts. “Whatever you wanna call it, you still dumped him. _For me_."

"You flatter yourself, Sehun. I could go on that date and meet you afterwards," Junmyeon forces himself to close his eyes, not able to stand the view of Sehun's allure. "I was just too distracted to entertain him. Thinking about too many things."

The taller breaks into a lazy smirk, "What's on your mind these days, Kim Junmyeon?"

Junmyeon sighs, concentrating on his thoughts, trying to form a visual representation of the insides of his mind. All he can see is his tiny cubicle, Kyungsoo being always there by him, and that man, that tall man with the widest shoulders and prettiest face he has ever seen. His warm eyes, beautiful full smiles, silky hair, and incredibly toned body that Junmyeon has seen in his dreams a few times. Maybe more.

The last image takes most of the free space in his head, crawling into his heart as well.

"Nothing. Nothing really interesting," Junmyeon answers, lifting up the corners of his lips until they almost touch his eyes upturned into crescent moons.

"Thought you will say it's me," Sehun murmurs.

Junmyeon dares to open his eyelids. The younger's plush lips are twisted into a blissful smile, and he is wearing a sly look on his face, making Junmyeon's heart flip a few times.

"You wish," he answers calmly. "What about you? What's on _your_ mind?"

Sehun shamelessly takes in the view of Junmyeon's whole body, of his messy hair, simple black t-shirt, jeans he decided to wear despite the heat. Something stirs in the deepest parts of Junmyeon’s thoughts, something incessantly sending incoherent signals to his limbs, prying him from the last bits of conscience. A swell of niggling arousal travels down the small body, elating, glowing on his skin.

"You," Sehun doesn’t hesitate. "You, laying here with me, covered in dust and clay.”

Junmyeon blushes, face flushing in pinks and reds. He isn't sure whether he has ever felt so tangible, so _alive,_ whether anyone besides Sehun could make him feel this way.

Despite the embarrassing heat sticking to his cheeks, Junmyeon rolls on his side as well, facing the younger. The air suddenly smells differently on the tip of his nostrils, like Sehun's manly, dazing scent, not like the typical summer evening.

“I mean… your clothes are unnecessarily getting dirty. It disturbs me,” Sehun teases, and Junmyeon grunts in annoyance.

"Thanks for your concern," Junmyeon says, adding more hesitantly. "But it's worth it."

It sounds cheesy, and somewhat weird on Junmyeon's tongue, but he doesn't regret saying those words, especially seeing Sehun's reaction, a faint blush spreading onto his cheeks.

"Can't believe I'm worth the same as Kim Junmyeon's outfit," the younger sighs, shaking his head and getting up, stretching his limbs. “I could do better.”

Junmyeon takes Sehun's hand reaching out to him in order to help him climb to his feet as well. He wonders if it's only him, or both of them feel the sudden spark at the touch, the sensation sending chills down his spine. He will not survive more closure, he's painfully sure of it.

"I really like this outfit. It's worth more to me, you know. Sentimental value and such," Junmyeon says nonchalantly, but his cheeks redden even more.

"Are _you_ trying to flatter me now, or you're just a total sap?" Sehun chuckles, tries to get rid of the dust from his clothes, shaking some from Junmyeon's shirt as well, and the shorter one goes numb at the gesture. "I think both."

"Shut up!” Junmyeon’s palm lands on Sehun’s, but he quickly draws back, embarrassed. “I'm leaving you here. You will have to come back home by bus again."

Sehun lifts up his hands in surrender. Junmyeon immediately misses the subtle touch. For the first time, the silence falling over them feels pleasurable. The instructor grips Junmyeon's wrist, taking him to the changing room. Junmyeon can't, _doesn’t want_ to protest, his head spinning, thoughts coiling around Sehun.

"I have to take a shower first. Wanna join?" Sehun smiles mischievously, wearing a hint of subtleness that shouldn't accompany such an offer.

Junmyeon can’t help but laugh nervously. The younger stays unfazed, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. It’s a joke. To tease him. Nothing more. For sure.

"No, of course I don't. What a stupid idea," Junmyeon deadpans, flustered.

Sehun grins, taking off his polo shirt. The view of the heavenly muscles hidden beneath the layer of clothes takes away Junmyeon's ability to think straight. Obviously he could expect that, or imagine that in his head, but nothing could prepare him for the reality.

Sehun is ravishing, arresting as a whole, conceivably unreal, and Junmyeon is falling head over heels for his every move, every word, every breath.

"No, really," the younger shrugs, and Junmyeon hopes Sehun can’t notice his curious eyes trying to focus on Sehun's face instead of his half-naked body. "You're dirty. How are you supposed to show up with me looking like that?"

Of course Sehun is joking. Junmyeon is embarrassed at some thoughts popping in his mind. He clears his throat, playing it cool.

"I will tarnish your reputation then, what a shame," Junmyeon snarls.

Sehun comes closer to him. Junmyeon takes a tiny step back, not trusting his own senses next to the instructor.

“S-Sehun, I'm in a hurry, so stop joking around."

The taller sends him a small smile, casting his fingers through the shorter's mussed hair, gently, almost insensibly. Junmyeon is melting at the sudden closure, shivering, surprised, yet in a way that makes you want _more._

"Sehun wha—"

"You had some clay there," Sehun clears his throat, leaving Junmyeon breathless, skillfully catching a towel the smaller throws at him with annoyance. "You could never tarnish my reputation, Junmyeon. Quite the opposite. Even looking a bit messy, you're stunning."  
  
Junmyeon practically chokes on air. The look Sehun sends his way is one of those one could call _the heart eyes_ , and the whole humour of the situation perishes, leaving only the seriousness in Sehun's words, the firm expression in his features.

And at this moment it’s so easy to move that one step closer, to straddle Sehun, to reign over him, but Junmyeon is numb, and he can’t do that here, can’t let the younger man end up like every other person he gets close to always does. Nothing more than a memory at the back of his head. No one more than someone who will eventually leave.

For Junmyeon, it all already seems like a dream, like a movie still, something distant. Almost every moment with Sehun feels like that, like something surreal, exciting beyond measure, something too easy to vanish. A faint, transparent bubble. A mirage in the desert.

"S-Shut up," the voice gets stuck in Junmyeon's throat as he is standing still, uptight. "And you… you stink. Not stunning at all."

Despite his flushed cheeks and glossy eyes, filled with something that couldn't be described by simple words, Junmyeon tries to look unbothered, though he feels more and more embarrassed at his own words, at his lack of courage.

But Sehun only laughs, his voice raspy, "Pardon me. I will shower just for you, Kim Junmyeon."

Junmyeon comes to one, very important conclusion then. Oh Sehun will be the end of him.

🎾

The long day at work is almost coming to an end, and Junmyeon hasn't been that content about it in ages. He doesn't particularly dislike his job, but recently finishing the eight hours long duty feels better than ever before.

Maybe it has something to do with a certain tennis instructor messaging him throughout the day, making him smile at his laptop, at his lunch, even at the most annoying broken printer that decided to be out of order once again.

They talk. Quite a lot, surprisingly.

Junmyeon could casually message Sehun when the younger starts the conversation himself, but isn't confident enough to write to him first, not to mention ask the man out, what he probably should do after all those teasing and flirtatious incidents. It's _scary._ Junmyeon has never fully dated anyone, rather had some flings, or one night stands, never more. Never out of _feelings._ With Sehun… it’s different.

Sehun is giving him hints, visibly wanting for Junmyeon to determine his stance, not pushing him into anything at the same time, but the older isn’t sure what to do, scared of messing it all up, scared of getting involved, scared of feeling, of not being _enough_ to another person that he cares about.  
  
The only thing he could do after mustering up all the courage he has is asking Sehun if he maybe needs a lift after his work from time to time. Somehow spending time in Junmyeon’s car seems easier than officially going somewhere together.

And Sehun agrees. Multiple times. Almost every day, Junmyeon would close his laptop twenty minutes earlier than usually, finishing all his tasks beforehand, and leave the building, ignoring Kyungsoo's curious stares.  
  
Junmyeon has always been one of the last people to leave the office. However, things can easily change after you _finally_ reach the top of the mountain and from there, you can see another one to climb, drawing you in with its beauty.

Everything would be perfect if not for one, quite important detail. The air is dense once again. Just around another person.

Even if he and Kyungsoo work together, and see each other every day, Junmyeon has been giving his friend the silent treatment for the few days after the Yixing Incident, completely ignoring his best friend's attempts to apologize, or even do such a simple thing as bring him coffee, as Kyugsoo always does.

It’s their first serious fight since they have become almost like brothers to each other, so both of them are uneasy, not knowing exactly how to act and talk it through. Usually they spend whole days together. Now, after their quarrel, they can't even exchange a few words.  
  
Or rather they can, but Junmyeon is reluctant to do so. He has always known that he and Kyungsoo would clash at some point of their friendship nevertheless, yet has never even allowed himself to think the reason for it could be another man.

Sehun isn't just _any_ man, though, so that’s a tad bit more understandable to Junmyeon, albeit he wouldn't admit that to his friend. Even though he has already acknowledged his interest towards the tennis instructor, he isn't eager to bring up that topic anymore. It feels too intimate, too fresh to get excited over, even with Kyungsoo. Junmyeon wants to deal with it himself, feel the thrill he has never experienced before. Also, after what happened, he is wary. He trusts Kyungsoo, but he’s a bit confused.

As expected from Junmyeon's best friend, the said man wants to brush the matter off after one apology and a short explanation, as it isn't a big deal to him. Junmyeon, on the other hand, is stubborn and petty, thus it isn’t possible to solve the situation as smoothly as Kyungsoo expects.  
  
Junmyeon simply still can't believe Kyungsoo and Jongin sabotaged his attempts to get close to the first man he _truly_ likes. Fortunately, everything turned out well, but it was _still_ a low blow, even if not done on purpose.

Of course, Kyungsoo doesn’t give up. He’s trying and trying to form a truce, pestering his best friend, for pushing Junmyeon to his limits is the only way to convince the huffy man to at least spare him a glance.

As Junmyeon is getting ready to leave the office, gathering his things, thinking about seeing Sehun, because the younger is not responding to any of his multiple texts about the meeting time, he hears the clicking of shoes against the tiled floor. _Not now._

"Jun, how many times do I have to tell you I'm sorry?" Kyungsoo invades Junmyeon's private space, storming into his cubicle pretty much uninvited.

He sighs. _Great_. No chance of leaving early today.

"No matter how many times you will do it, it won't change the fact that you and your _boyfriend_ put me in the most uncomfortable situation I could imagine," Junmyeon huffs.

He clasps his lips tightly, holding himself back from snapping at his best friend even more. Despite Junmyeon's itchy mood, Kyungsoo manages to hug him from behind, wrapping his arms hesitantly around Junmyeon’s defensive form occupying a chair.

"I didn’t have anything to do with it. And Jongin didn’t do that on purpose," Kyungsoo says with his sweet, calm voice.

Junmyeon tries to shrug him off, "Whatever."

"Jun, it's not my fault my boyfriend is clueless and put your bait into the wrong locker. Told you that you should do it yourself, but you always know better, right?"

Junmyeon wants to elbow Kyungsoo, but the man is squeezing him too much to even let him flinch. They wrestle for a bit, until Junmyeon finally gives up, letting himself be embraced.

“Cheer up, Jun. It’s not like your plan didn't work anyway,” Kyungsoo leans down, his smiley face appearing in front of Junmyeon’s stony one.

Junmyeon hates when Kyungsoo is right.

"Still, whatever. I'm mad. Leave me alone, please. We will talk when I feel like it,” he grumbles, making sure Kyungsoo won’t broach the subject further, avoiding his prying eyes.

Junmyeon's best friend sighs. This time Junmyeon at least graced the other man with any answer instead of offering him silent grumbles and death stares, so there's a progress.  
  
Kyungsoo is about to leave, untangling himself from the grumpy man, yet before he does, he gives Junmyeon a telltale pat on the shoulder. It means only one thing. Junmyeon's friend has another card up his sleeve.

"Besides, I didn’t come here to apologize. I only wanted to tell you that Jongin talked to Sehun this morning," Kyungsoo emphasizes the instructor's name. "and your _loverboy_ won't be working in the club for some time."

Junmyeon becomes frozen with a confused, unsure look on his face, letting off the way Kyungsoo named Sehun.  
  
That would explain why the younger one isn’t answering his phone. But… if something happened, why Sehun didn't inform him himself? Maybe he couldn't, maybe he lost his phone, or maybe… maybe Sehun got tired of him already, like everyone always does, and that information should force Junmyeon to stay away.

He tries so hard not to blow up, but it’s a lost cause. His emotions couldn’t be kept at bay anymore.

"W-What does it mean? Is he okay?!" Junmyeon stands up from his swivel chair so abruptly the wheels bring the thing into the furthest corner of his cubicle.

The silence lingers over them like a stormy cloud ready to send rain and thunder to the ground. Junmyeon looks his friend straight into his eyes to put more pressure on him and let the cold, sobering rain fall down on him.

Kyungsoo doesn't seem shocked at his reaction. Apparently his friend expected that from Junmyeon, smiling smugly as if the situation isn't _serious_. Before the other man is able to see the blush creeping up Junmyeon’s neck, he pretends he needs to cast about for something in one of his huge cabinets, very urgently.

"Why are you smiling? Is that a joke of some sort?” Junmyeon tries to sound as calm and cold as possible. “Because if it is, I will never talk to you again.”

Kyungsoo moves around the room, Junmyeon knows that from the distinct sound of shoes shuffling on the floor. He does that only when he’s a bit nervous, which definitely doesn’t help the situation.

"I’m not joking. Sehun broke his arm," Kyungsoo says flatly. "It was an accident, very unfortunate."  
  
The air gets stuck in Junmyeon’s lungs as he stiffens upon hearing the news. His fingers touch the papers in the cabinet, organizing them, but his mind is somewhere else.

“Since you and I aren't talking, I guess Jongin will take the soup I cooked and visit Sehun," Kyungsoo adds, trying to sounds uninterested. "He will definitely be happy. Maybe I will visit him as well."

Junmyeon throws an angry glance at his best friend, still a bit shaken, "No need for that. Tell Jongin to send me Sehun's address."

Kyungsoo smiles triumphantly. Junmyeon rolls his eyes at him.

"Thought you know it. You've taken him home a few times before, I saw you sneaking out from the job earlier to give him a ride," Kyungsoo wiggles his brows. "Such a coincidence. You and Sehun live in two different parts of the city."

"I don't know the _exact_ address, Sherlock. Also, not your business,” Junmyeon theatrically closes the cabinet’s door, finally turning around, fire burning in his eyes. "I will visit him, so get me the address."

“The magic word?”

Junmyeon sighs before grumbling, “ _Please._ ”

“Alright. I'll ask Jongin, Mr. Offended. And meet me at the parking in five so we can go to my apartment and grab the soup.”

Junmyeon has the urge to throw something at his best friend, but Kyungsoo is quick to leave, proud of himself. Left alone, Junmyeon continues cleaning up his working space, doing it as fast as he can. Soon his phone beams with a new message containing the needed adress, causing his stomach to twist a few times. It isn’t a particularly pleasurable feeling.

As much as he wants to feel excited about meeting the younger man in a new setting, how could he? Sehun is alone, suffering, probably blaming himself for what happened, no matter what is the reason for his injury. That’s probably why the younger man didn't inform Junmyeon about it himself. He hopes so.

When everything is neatly packed into his briefcase, Junmyeon grabs the keys to his car, carrying his tired body a good few floors down to the parking lot. He’s anxious and worried, both concerning the younger and their meeting, not knowing what exactly he can do, and if Sehun even wants to see him.

One thing he’s certain about is that Sehun doesn't deserve to go alone through the aftermath of the unfortunate accident, so Junmyeon, like the responsible adult he is, will rescue him from the slump he has fallen into, no matter what.

Hopefully Sehun will let him. Hopefully the reason for his sudden silence is not the one Junmyeon’s mind desperately tries to convince him about.

🎾

Junmyeon appears at the doorstep of the younger’s apartment not even an hour after he grabbed the food from Kyungsoo. The instructor opens the door for him, staring at him without a word. Sehun doesn’t seem particularly overjoyed seeing Junmyeon. He also isn't displeased. Not even especially startled. His features simply express apathy. Junmyeon feels… unwelcome.

He clears his throat when a few tense seconds pass. Sehun finally lets him in wearing his usual stoic facade, but this time it’s more stiff and stony. Junmyeon's kind smile that he decided to welcome the instructor with falters as fast as it appeared.

It feels like everything they built between them has suddenly vanished. Junmyeon already panics deep inside, but he tries to stay strong for his own sake. He steps further into Sehun’s apartment, leaving his shoes at the entrance beforehand, feeling as if he left his confidence with them there.

Despite the discomfort and worry, even if he tries the best he can, Junmyeon can't shake off the whirlwind of other buzzing emotions. The moment the shorter man enters Sehun's apartment is almost as extraordinary as taking the first step onto the surface of the moon. A groundbreaking discovery. Something never experienced by any other man before.

Sehun's four walls are quite spacious yet cosy, simply decorated, smelling nicely of fresh, summery scent. Junmyeon expected a mess of clothes splattered everywhere, or a pile of dishes in the sink, but then it’s _Sehun's_ apartment, so of course it would look as neat as the owner himself.

Junmyeon winces at the thought of his own flat and the state it’s in. He is an exception to the principle. But fortunately, in terms of Sehun, the place definitely reflects the younger as a person. Maybe with a small difference. It’s too silent.

"H-Hi. I brought you some soup," Junmyeon stutters out, glancing around, too scared to look Sehun straight into the eyes, afraid of seeing even the tiniest bit of discontent there.

"Thanks," Sehun's voice is thick and low. "You cooked it yourself?"

Junmyeon jerks his head away from a very interesting painting hung on Sehun's wall, and pitifully stares at the plastic container filled with the spicy liquid.

"Oh. No. Kyungsoo did," he deadpans, slightly embarrassed.

Sehun only blinks at that, standing still in the narrow entrance to the kitchen, his shoulders taking almost all of the free space.

Junmyeon feels like an intruder, but he can't stop himself from ogling anymore. The man in front of him looks like a total opposite of the usual Sehun he knows. A walking mess dressed in crumpled clothes, a young person who probably woke up a moment earlier, because he keeps rubbing at his half-opened eyelids involuntarily, trying to wipe the sleep away.  
  
The cast hugging his broken arm makes him slouch unnaturally, like the thing is carrying all Sehun's feelings inside, heavy with worries.

The view makes Junmyeon’s heart clench. He isn't sure what he should do, filled with the sudden urge to cry and run away. Sehun is quiet as well, emotionless, confirming Junmyeon’s belief that the younger probably doesn't want to see him, and maybe coming here wasn't a good idea after all. He shouldn't have let his heart decide.

"I'll just leave it here and go home. Don't wanna bother you," Junmyeon says tentatively, stealing glances at Sehun’s sleepy form.

Sehun blinks again, very rapidly, as if he tries to comprehend what’s going on. The older sets the container with soup on the table and almost steps out of the room, but Sehun stops him with his whole body, putting his healthy right arm on Junmyeon's shoulder.

"Stay," the younger whispers, a hint of something akin to fear curling around his tongue, heavy from numbing medicine. "Heat the food for me, please? I will be in my room, at the end of the hall."

Junmyeon doesn't know what to think of it, but he does as he is asked for, almost letting his tears fall into the pot, freeing the frustration of the whole situation, the unbearable silence, and Sehun's poor state. He’s used to the younger being all smiles, not that miserable form, and that breaks Junmyeon, even though it probably shouldn't influence him that much in the first place. He and Sehun aren't _that_ close, besides, he’s supposed to be the strong one this time.

Hesitantly, not without many meltdowns, the shorter man manages to prepare the food and bring it to Sehun's bedroom. The younger is sitting numbly on a quite big double bed, taking only one side of it. His dark eyes warm up upon seeing Junmyeon.

"Food is ready," Junmyeon clears his throat. "Eat it now, before it gets cold. It tastes the best like this."

Sehun doesn’t say anything, only moves a bit to the center of the bed and pats the mattress on the free spot he made.  
  
Junmyeon sets the bowl on the bedside table, very slowly sitting down next to him. He scans the simple room, more humid and warm than the rest of the apartment, shadowy due to the drawn curtains. It feels intimate, as if he entered the restricted area of Sehun's home. Of Sehun's life.

"Feed me?" Sehun asks with a small voice, startling him.

Junmyeon's eyes are drawn wide open. For a moment he’s wondering if he heard well.

"Oh? S-Sure," he nods, taking the bowl in his hands.

He isn't sure how he is supposed to do it, so for a few seconds he just sits, unmoving, letting his thoughts wander around his head. Something pops up in his mind as he stares at Sehun's cast.

"Aren't you right-handed though?"

"What?"

"You're right-handed. You can eat by yourself," Junmyeon answers, his gaze falling to the colorful bedding when he realizes how rude it sounds.

The younger giggles, showing any emotion for the first time since they’ve met today. Junmyeon shudders with a spark of joy.

"I am. But I couldn't even hold anything with my arm in the cast and then eat with my healthy one," Sehun points to his crippled limb. "Besides, I’m too woozy to sit at the table."

"Oh. R-Right," Junmyeon stutters out.

"If you don't want to do this just—"

"No!" the smaller one says, a little bit too loudly. "No. It's okay."

Sehun smiles, "Great. Because if my hand was busy, I wouldn't be able to do this."

Before Junmyeon can even blink, Sehun starts rubbing circles on the small of his back with his hand, gently, lightly as a feather.  
  
A shiver runs down Junmyeon's spine. His heart beats faster, waking up all the butterflies in his stomach, and so they flutter loudly, bringing the loud voice of thumping to his ears. Junmyeon can't say he hates this feeling anymore, but he's confused, unsure what it all means, so he stiffens, squinting at the pretty much content younger man.

"You— Just eat," Junmyeon clears his throat, bringing a spoonful of the liquid to Sehun's mouth. "And if by any means your hand wanders where it shouldn't, I'll spill the soup on you."

Junmyeon tries to sound strict, but the amusement doesn't disappear from Sehun's face.

"Doesn't seem like my touch bothers you, though," Sehun says, trying to utter more words, but he's quickly silenced by another spoon pushing its way a bit violently into his lips.

It's going too far too quickly. Junmyeon still hasn't recovered from the cold shoulder Sehun gave him not even an hour ago, "I think I liked you better when you were grumpy," Junmyeon scoffs.

Sehun twitches at those words, not saying anything more until the feeding comes to an end.

The silence is Junmyeon's worst enemy. He needs distraction from intrusive thoughts, but not receiveing it, Junmyeon wonders. Wonders about how it all happened, but mostly how they even ended up in that setting after all that is going on between them.  
  
It feels intimate. So close, unusually cosy, _too_ domestic. Once almost-enemies, now being on the road to change it into something _better,_ or so Junmyeon believes, hopes so. The one road that Junmyeon didn't, couldn't take for a long time, too afraid to erase the borderline between him and the other person, form any sort of relationship.

He has been reverently trying to keep everyone at a significant distance. Until Sehun appeared.

The smaller man feels the need to distance himself again, exhausted, not able to distinguish his own emotions. He needs to run away, from Sehun, from himself too. Junmyeon moves slightly, about to stand up and bring the bowl to the kitchen, having some time to think at the same time, but Sehun's tight grip on his arm, right above his elbow, stops him from going anywhere.

"I'm sorry," the instructor says, smiling sheepishly. "All I did for the whole day was sleeping and taking meds. It overwhelms me. Didn't want to upset you with my behaviour."

Sehun's eyes are shining, holding whole galaxies inside. Junmyeon has the urge to get lost in them, seeing the stars gleaming just for him in the depth of those dark pupils. But something holds him back. _Uncertainty_.

"Or you're just playing with my feelings," Junmyeon deadpans, holding Sehun's gaze, absorbed by the black hole with no return.

The younger furrows his brows, but his features quickly soften, somehow bringing Junmyeon with them. He's too smitten with Sehun to care about his insecurities at this moment.

"I would never play with your feelings," Sehun loosens the grip, resting the tips of his fingers on Junmyeon's back once again. "Never."

The smaller one raises his brow, though deep down he is sure Sehun tells the truth, "Then what are you doing right now?"

"Comforting you. You were stiff," Sehun whispers. "Do you want me to stop?"

They fight a silent battle of gazes, the one that Junmyeon will always lose against Sehun. This time isn't any different.

"Was the soup good?" he asks, skipping over the topic as if it doesn't exist.

Sehun grins, knowing that he won.

"It was. Thank Kyungsoo from me," Sehun is brushing Junmyeon's back again, the older letting him without a blink of an eye.

"I will," he mutters, focusing on Sehun's damaged arm, feeling his heart clench yet again. "Does it… hurt?"

Sehun shakes his head, shrugging nonchalantly, "No. Not really," the younger sighs. "Not physically at least."

Junmyeon nods, an understanding little tick of his head, "You can't play tennis. Can't work. It's not easy, I guess."

The light touch on Junmyeon's back becomes stronger for a short while, when Sehun turns his gaze away to look anywhere but at him.

"It's… new to me. But I will get better soon. Everything will be alright, eventually," Sehun smiles faintly, his eyes travelling up and down Junmyeon's body now. "Hey, you."

"Hm?" Junmyeon finds himself reciprocating the smile.

"You surprised me, showing up today."

The blush creeps on Junmyeon's cheeks, annoyingly hot, unexpected. The younger one had to see it, because he grins widely, rubbing circles with his fingers using even more pressure than before.

"That nice kind of surprise or…?" Junmyeon bites his lower lip in expectation. "You didn't call me, I didn't know what to think, and—"

"The best kind. I didn't think you would come," Sehun says, his voice reassuringly calm. "And uh… I had to inform Jongin, so he could cover my shifts, and I knew he would tell you. Sorry you found out this way. I had to deal with this mess."

The tension Junmyeon felt a while ago dissolves into thin air, replaced by the feeling of overwhelming warmth. He shouldn't have been worrying that much and doubting Sehun in the first place.

"That's fine," Junmyeon shivers under the touch, affection boiling in his blood, sizzling hot. "I realized you might need help. And I kinda, you know, wanted to repay you."

"Oh, so chivalrous of you,” the younger lets out a strangled giggle.

"Shut up! I'm just saying."

“So, you're here only because of your noble heart. Just because of that," Sehun questioningly raises his brow.

The movement of slim fingers stops, and Sehun moves further on the bed, giving Junmyeon more space. It doesn't seem like running away, though. More like a silent incentive. Junmyeon clears his throat, gawking at the man next to him.

"N-No. I wanted… I wanted to genuinely keep you company. Or whatever," Sehun tries to suppress the grin creeping onto his face; Junmyeon finds it silly. "I like… talking to you."

"The feeling is mutual," Sehun grins.

That awful, _awful_ grin.

"No wonder. I am very likeable," Junmyeon says, scolding Sehun with his gaze when the younger suddenly snorts.

For a moment there’s only silence between them, broken only by the ticking of the clock somewhere in the room. Junmyeon inhales loudly, flustered, yet no longer uncomfortable. He doesn't remember when was the last time he felt this way. If ever. 

Sehun's hand slides over the cover, his open palm inviting Junmyeon to come closer.

"I don't want to be alone tonight," Sehun mutters softly.

Junmyeon shifts uncomfortably, "I— Well, I can stay a bit. Not too long, though."

The younger nods.

"Come here. Lie down with me, Jun," Sehun seems to be so casual about the offer, but Junmyeon doesn't miss the nervous tremble of his voice. "Let's watch a movie together."

Junmyeon opens and closes his mouth at least ten times before trying to form any sensible answer. He didn't expect that. Didn't even consider doing something like that. And yet, he simply scoots closer when Sehun moves his hand away, lowers his body without saying anything, his back glued to the soft mattress.

He lies down next to Sehun, silently thanking himself for changing his office attire into something more comfortable, feeling the heat of Sehun’s skin through the layers of fabric hugging his body, even though they don’t even touch.  
  
The atmosphere is weirdly quiet and tense, but Sehun turns choosing a movie into a whole bickering session, and both of them relax considerably. The younger puts a blanket over them, settling himself a bit closer to Junmyeon, testing the waters. Junmyeon doesn't move away.

The shorter man takes a deep breath. His fingers feel cold, his neck too hot, and not enough oxygen is getting into his system in the room dominated by Sehun’s presence. Noisy flurry of thoughts makes him dart a short glance at the arm in the cast.  
  
Junmyeon thinks he doesn’t want to imagine Sehun getting hurt, the vision like a stain in his mind, agonizing, harrowing. Sehun notices Junmyeon's focus is most certainly not on the screen.

"I wanted to perfectly slide and hit the ball. It would've been such a beautiful shot," Sehun says, catching Junmyeon off guard. "Instead I got a wooden arm."

Junmyeon giggles, but deeply, his heart aches.

"Be… be careful next time, okay?" Junmyeon whispers.

Their eyes lock, a short look of understanding.

"If _you_ ask for that, I will do my best," Sehun whispers back, his eyes shiny and pure.

Their conversation ends at that. It’s hard to regain focus on the movie, though, especially when all Junmyeon can think about is Sehun. The proximity they share. Sehun's hand brushing his, doing that so delicately Junmyeon pretends he doesn't notice.  
  
The warmth surrounding them seems like too much, especially in the summer evening, but Junmyeon can’t complain, being too comfortable, letting his body and mind take a break from functioning, slowly drifting off.

The movie goes on, pleasurably filling the room with hushed sounds, being the only source of light. Junmyeon knows he won't watch much, his body usually can't stand movies after a tiring workday, but he tries to keep Sehun company. Maybe closing his eyes for a second won't hurt. He needs to relax a bit.

Behind closed eyelids, Sehun and him are silently passing a ball, like on the court, just imaginary, highly metaphorical. It’s a hard game, the prize one of a kind, and almost impossible for Junmyeon to get.  
  
The initiative is mostly on Sehun's side, but his opponent tries so hard to take it over, to show what he’s capable of. And Junmyeon thinks that even if the tennis player usually has the control over the ball, it might happen that it won't go the way it should. Sometimes the ball could go further or closer, falling nowhere, and sometimes, very rarely, it will fall into the best spot, even if the player didn't intend for it to.

That situation is the intriguing kind, surprising the players, and even if one of them might lose a point in the effect of it, the excitement and thrill of the miracle would influence both.  
  
Junmyeon has never liked the feeling of it, since it seems unfair to be a winner by accident, but he has already passed his ball without thinking where it might land, and somehow it feels that he will miraculously win, hitting the most unexpected spot located in Sehun's heart.

🎾

Mornings are dreadful. Mornings mean waking up alone tangled in sheets, leaving the most blessed thing in the world named bed, and dealing with daily issues.  
  
Junmyeon always struggles with them, forcing his eyelids to open despite his body being awash with tiredness. Most of the time he’s preparing to leave the house with his eyes still half-closed, walking around the apartment as if it’s a punishment.

Yet this morning, _this_ morning is different. Unusually peaceful, fresh, lazier than ever before. His limbs feel lighter, bedding softer, and he’s hugging something warm.

Junmyeon groans out of contentment, cuddling the thing next to him, huddling against it comfortably, letting out a sigh when his body fits perfectly in a spot he has sleepily chosen. Something falls on his shoulder, heavy yet gentle, and Junmyeon tries to brush it off, but the weight doesn't disappear despite many desperate shrugs.

That’s when he starts to come out of the dreamland, when apprehension sneaks into him, when his eyes open in fear. Because he has nothing, _no one_ , to hug in his bed, touch his body that way, and his blanket isn't moving up and down in the steady rhythm of breathing.

"Good morning, sunshine. Did you sleep well?"

The silent whisper of Sehun's husky morning voice in his ear wakes him up entirely, roughly pushing him into the sitting position. Junmyeon bolts out of bed, almost tripping over his own legs.

Breathing harshly, getting rid of the adrenaline running through his veins and Sehun's warm breath lingering on his earlobe, he stares at the view in front of him, at Sehun lying down in his own bed, the one that Junmyeon has spent the night in as well. He has no idea what even happened the night before. He barely closed his eyes and...

Junmyeon suddenly panics, checking if he’s wearing his clothes, if he has his phone, what time it is. Thank God it’s Saturday, because in different circumstances, he would be late to work. Sehun still doesn't move from his spot, staring at Junmyeon closely, a smirk gracing his unfairly perfect morning face.

"Me. You," Junmyeon gestures between him and Sehun, and the younger giggles, carefully rolling out of the blanket messily thrown on top of him in the scene of horror.

Millions of questions run through Junmyeon's mind. Not all of them are the ones he would openly ask, too afraid of the answer, and even slightly embarrassed.

"Well, yeah. Me, you, we slept together in my bed," Sehun shrugs.

Junmyeon opens his eyes wider. He notes down that Sehun is wearing different clothes than yesterday, looking well-rested, way better, and he is still pretty much confused, but now also utterly smitten.  
  
His palms are sweating at the thought of the _things_ that could happen. Junmyeon doesn't remember anything apart from the beginning of the movie they decided to watch. But nothing happened, nothing could happen, it’s Sehun, and Junmyeon just fell asleep, nothing more. _Right?_

"Did we…? You know," Junmyeon feels stupid asking that, but he needs to know.

"What?" the instructor asks, mimicking Junmyeon's shocked expression in a jokingly way. "Did we do something more?"

Junmyeon nods vigorously.

"Yes. We did."

He shivers at those words, and his response has to speak louder than words, because Sehun finally gets up from bed, his eyes softening, his smile more gentle.

"Hey, we only cuddled," the younger says softly, hides his worried eyes behind the curtain of damp hair, stepping closer to Junmyeon. "You fell asleep and I didn't want to wake you up. I simply couldn't. You were pouting. So cute."

It couldn't happen to him, _everything_ but that stupid sleeping pout habit. Junmyeon knows he probably did pout, but he will never, ever, admit it.

"Shut up," Junmyeon grumbles, ashamed. "I don't pout, like, ever. And you were watching me sleeping?"

"As far as I’m concerned, it’s not a crime,” Sehun snickers, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, it's a bit late, sleepyhead. I already took a shower, so if you want to, then you can freshen up as well. I'll prepare us some breakfast."

Junmyeon is at the loss for words. He should probably decline, go home, and burn from embarrassment.  
  
But then, he glances at Sehun, at the messy bed, and immediately admits to himself that he doesn't hate that situation at all, but also doesn't particularly like it. Solely because he clearly can’t remember anything, knocking out into the deep sleep immediately, worn-out after the busy day at work.

Junmyeon would love to know how Sehun feels under his touch, how lovely it’s to fall asleep in his arms, cuddle, mutter soft words, and—

"Earth to Junmyeon," Sehun sing-songs.

"S-Sure. Bathroom. I'm going."

Junmyeon looks around Sehun's room, wondering what the hell is he even doing. It was supposed to be a nice evening, and he fell asleep, _pouted_ , and then bolted out of Sehun's bed like a madman. Apart from that, his clothes are pretty much not suitable to wear after the night underneath the thick cover.

"Can you borrow me a t-shirt at least?" Junmyeon asks, looking away.

Sehun grins proudly, taking some clothes and a towel from the nearby shelf, putting it in Junmyeon's hands.

"Everything is already prepared. Go, go. The bathroom is on the left."

Junmyeon nods absentmindedly, storms into Sehun's bathroom, closing the door just in case, and takes a refreshing shower, washing down the stiffness in his body, the blush on his cheeks, and the assaulting arousal.

His mind is a huge mess. Junmyeon promises himself to tidy it up later, when he can think straight, somewhere where Sehun wouldn't interrupt his train of thought. If he started to overthink right here and then, he would spend a whole day in the shower.  
  
Clearing his body and the remnants of dirty thoughts under the stream of lukewarm water, Junmyeon doesn't take long, drying himself up after a while, trying to get rid of his morning look, messily brushing his hair with his fingers.

Sehun's t-shirt is too big on him, and he probably looks ludicrous, but that doesn't bother him once he realizes the piece of clothing seems like being embraced by Sehun. Junmyeon feels pathetic thinking how happy that piece of information makes him.

The smell of exceptionally delicious food hits his nostrils, watering his mouth. Junmyeon's stomach grumbles, so he waits no more, dropping his attempts to look decent. He leaves his clothes on the chair he passes in the hall and hurries to the kitchen, sliding into one of the stools at the counter a little bit tentatively.  
  
The amount of plates in front of him exceeds every expectation about a simple breakfast. Sehun puts the last dish on the table and sits down as well, lurking at Junmyeon above his mug.

"You look—"

"I know. Ridiculous."

"Pretty," Sehun smiles. "My clothes fit you."

"Well, I—," Junmyeon can’t form a sentence, too flustered, and he absolutely _hates_ feeling this way. "Don't tell me you made all of that yourself with your arm in the cast?"

The taller grins, content with himself, gloating. Junmyeon could see the glint of triumph in Sehun's eyes, probably because apparently he _loves_ turning Junmyeon into a puddle.

"I wish. My friend Jongdae dropped by earlier and left it for me."

Junmyeon feels a weird pang in his chest, draping Sehun with a quick stare. The younger looks dreamy getting ready to attack the food, visibly content with the variety.  
  
Sehun notices the older one sits still, so he encourages Junmyeon to eat, gesturing at the cutlery. Junmyeon doesn't pick it up, though. He ogles toasts, various types of bread, sweet buns, neatly cut up fruits, and despite everything screaming at him to be devoured, he's lost his appetite.

Everyone seems to be doing something for Sehun. Jongin. Kyungsoo. That friend. And there he is, using Sehun's warm water, eating his food, and spending the night in his bed instead of being _useful_. What kind of help is it, if it doesn’t seem helpful at all?

"M-Maybe you should've eaten with your friend, then," Junmyeon says, uncomfortably brushing the rim of his coffee cup. "Since he made that all just for you."

The deadly silence makes the older one clench his jaw in shame. He is so stupid. So stupidly jealous of anyone interacting with Sehun, out of sudden, out of nowhere.

"He is busy taking care of his business. No time for me," Sehun smiles fondly, biting a huge chunk of the toast with an enormous amount of butter. "Don't worry about it, his family runs a brunch joint, so he just grabbed some food from there. And if… perhaps you're not hungry, you don't have to eat, Junmyeon."

Shame spreads on Junmyeon's cheeks in shades of pink. Sehun is too kind and thoughtful.  
  
"No! No, I will eat with pleasure," Junmyeon shakes his head, blinking a few times, immediately grabbing a fork. Will he ever _not_ make a fool out of himself in front of the tennis instructor?

They say no more, simply munch on food for a good half an hour, sharing stares and occasionally humming when something is exceptionally tasty.

"So," Sehun breaks the silence first after most of the food is gone, sipping on his tea.

"So."

"It was delicious, right?"

"It really was. I haven't eaten food that good in a while," Junmyeon admits. "I especially loved the buns with jam."

Sehun seems incredibly happy with Junmyeon's answer, grinning widely, "I'll ask Dae for more next time."

_Next time._

"N-No need to. Don't bother," Junmyeon says way too quickly, standing up to clean up after the feast, avoiding Sehun's eyes. "I won't take more of your time."

A snort comes out of Sehun's mouth, "You're such a dumbass, Jun. You literally saved me showing up yesterday," Sehun stands up as well, his arm brushing Junmyeon's. "I would gladly eat more breakfasts with you. I hate being on my own."

The smaller blushes, peeks at Sehun grinning at him coyly, then blushes even more, lightly punching the man in the right arm. The younger rolls his eyes, amusement splattered on his face, accompanied by something deeper, something that Junmyeon is afraid to dwell on.

Sehun helps Junmyeon with loading the dishwasher despite the shorter's assurance that he can manage to do that himself, and that Sehun shouldn't strain himself too much. Their fingers keep brushing accidentally from time to time, electrified. Junmyeon almost gasps when it happens the moment he least expects it, pulling away.

"You're suddenly jumpy, yet you snuggled with me the whole night," Sehun sing-songs, closing the door of the machine with his hip.

Junmyeon blushes again, his body almost on fire, "Maybe you only say that to tease me. How would I know, huh?"

Sehun laughs melodically.

"Oh, please. You were the first one to come closer. Something pulled you to me," the younger bites his lower lip. "What do you think, what was it?"

Junmyeon swallows the lump in his throat, looking at Sehun's smug smile. The battle of gazes unveils once again, their pupils magnetized to each other. Junmyeon is aware of himself losing and looks down at the tiled floor, crossing his arms and swinging on his feet back and front.

"We didn't cuddle. That's what I think."

Sehun laughs again, a beautiful, low-pitched giggle trembling in his throat.

Junmyeon's fingers dig into the skin of his upper arms. He is still not sure whether they really cuddled or not, but he is painfully sure he is close to gather Sehun into an embrace and spend the whole day nuzzling into his body covered by that soft bedding.

"You're so stubborn, ain't you?" Sehun asks fondly.

"I'm most definitely everything but stubborn," Junmyeon mumbles, a small pout unconsciously forming on his lips.

Sehun snorts, "Alright, pouty man," he pauses for a while, thinking about something. "Up for one more favor for me?"

The words force the smaller man to tighten his grip. He will definitely have bruises there, but he will worry about it later. Junmyeon nods, voice stuck in his throat.

"Great. Then take me to the tennis court."

Sehun says it casually, yet with a serious look on his face. Junmyeon waits for him to elaborate, his eyes wide open, but the younger only raises his brow in expectation.

"B-But you can't play, it—"

The instructor smacks his lips with irritation, interrupting him, "No, not to that one you know. Somewhere else. I want to show you something."

Junmyeon deflates, letting his arms fall to his sides. The unwanted disappointment rises high up from his gut to the insides of his throat.

"I don't know. If you're going to play anyway—"

"Do you trust me?" Sehun asks, looking straight into his eyes.

Junmyeon hesitates. But then Sehun brushes his finger over the reddish marks on Junmyeon's upper arm left by the tight grip, leaving his mind completely empty except from the belief there's nothing to hesitate about.

"I do. I do trust you."

They look into each other's eyes.

"Then take me there."

🎾

Junmyeon didn't expect to see an old fashioned, concrete tennis court, the one that you can find available for everyone. He thought about a high-end tennis club like the one he’s the member of, now feeling slightly embarrassed at how comfort-seeking he has become in the recent years.

This particular court looks nothing like any he’s ever seen. The ground is cracked in many different places, the net has seen better days, the whole thing looks desolated, glum, and yet Sehun warms up at the view. The instructor runs his palm over the high fence around the court, pursing his brows, falling into deep thoughts. Another intimate part of Sehun's life, it seems.

Sehun becomes more gloomy the closer they are to the entrance, but musters up a small smile when Junmyeon keeps looking at him intently, trying to decipher his feelings. He feels that he has to do something to give the latter some comfort in this visibly uncomfortable situation.

Junmyeon isn't sure how he gathers courage to make a move, but he takes Sehun's healthy hand in his both, sliding his fingers over the younger's knuckles. Sehun's touch is so gentle it almost doesn't exist, but he reciprocates the gesture either way. The younger’s smile gets bigger.

"What's this place?" Junmyeon asks, a bit dumbly, he has to admit.

"My first tennis court," Sehun mutters. "My second home."

Junmyeon blinks, looking around with curiosity. That makes sense then. The state the place is in. 

"You used to play here as a child?"

"Yeah," Sehun nods, leading Junmyeon through the empty space. "Crazy, right? It looked better earlier, though."

The smaller one nods absentmindedly. They silently walk around the court, their hands intertwined, holding their bodies close. Junmyeon can barely focus from the motion of their skin touching.

"So many memories," Sehun's voice turns wistful. "I was running away from daily struggles here. Tennis wasn't as important to me as it was for you, I suppose. I used it as a way to forget about… things. And I realized I'm good at playing it."

Junmyeon furrows his brows, genuinely confused. He looks Sehun straight into his eyes, but the younger man is avoiding his gaze.

"I thought… I thought it was your passion as well," he can't hide the surprise in his voice, questions lingering somewhere on the tip of his tongue.

"It was. It _still_ is, but I never aspired to be a tennis player, neither an instructor," Sehun shrugs, letting Junmyeon's hands go. "It happened. I dropped out of college cause I didn't like my major, and so I ended up at the tennis club."

The taller moves away languidly, kicking little stones laying on the ground. Junmyeon follows him, step by step, inexplicable longing spiking within him.

"I’m planning to earn money and start living anew, somewhere, preferably far away from here. One day," Sehun adds, still not looking in Junmyeon's direction.

Junmyeon feels like someone hit him in the head. He only got close to Sehun recently, and life is already planning to take him away, somewhere where Junmyeon probably couldn't go, not in the current situation between them.  
  
He shouldn’t be thinking it these categories, but he can’t help it. Junmyeon is a bit selfish like this. Once he invited someone to his closed heart, it’s harder and harder to let go, that’s why he usually keeps everyone at a slight distance.

One day sounds like a distant future, but it _will_ happen. Sehun will leave, and Junmyeon will come back to his miserable life. But maybe… maybe it won’t happen. Maybe he can convince the younger otherwise.

The smaller runs closer to Sehun, standing in front of him, stopping him from moving further, from running away.

"Everything in our life happens for a reason, I guess. At least that's what I've been always telling myself," Junmyeon gaps when their eyes meet, Sehun's confident, Junmyeon's fearful. "I also moved here escaping from something, so I understand. Memories are the worst. You're right, it's good to start anew, but…”

Junmyeon stops, realizing a lot in that very short moment.

“But?” Sehun asks.

“But I did, and it still didn't help much. Maybe I just don’t know how."

The taller slowly walks to Junmyeon, holding his broken arm close. He seems sadder than before, deeply in his thoughts, eyes dark, but still warm.

"That’s because you let the past haunt you,” Sehun says.

Junmyeon turns his head away. He doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want to dwell, to let his mind wander to his past anymore. It does haunt him, of course it does, but he can’t live any other way. He has nothing else besides the memories. Either good or oppressive ones.

His hand lands into Sehun’s once again, and he loves the touch, but he can’t look the latter in the eyes anymore.

“I know it's not easy, Jun,” Sehun practically whispers. “I know. That’s why I took you here with me… because every time I come to this place I realize that if I let memories flood me, I wouldn't be where I am now."

Sehun smiles gently, their fingers lacing.

"Junmyeon, I don’t want to sound intrusive, and I don’t want to push you, just— You’ve been through tough stuff, but I believe it's the best time to move on, like I did after my studying failure, and like I will after this injury. It's hard, but I will help you,” Sehun becomes silent, adding quietly after a while. “If you let me, that is. Whatever is holding you back from living fully—"

"Why are you saying that?" Junmyeon interrupts, tears suddenly welling up in his eyes.

"Cause I care about you. And nothing will change in your life, and between us, if you won’t allow it to,” Sehun whispers, and his breath tickles Junmyeon's lashes, their closure suffocating. “Admit it, you don't live fully."

Junmyeon feels anger coiling around his ribcage. He doesn’t _need_ to be reminded of that, doesn’t _want_ to be.

“Stop. Please—“

But Sehun continues, "You have a stable job. A house. A car. A hobby that dictates your life. Still, there's this bitterness inside you. That feeling of dread to change anything. To change who you are."

Junmyeon chuckles, but it lacks any humour. The words Sehun said hit right in the worst spot, of course they do, because Junmyeon was the one who delivered them to the younger in the first place. They seem even more accurate than Kyungsoo's ever did, even though he thought no one can get to him more than his friend.  
  
Granted, everyone seems to know Junmyeon better than he knows himself, ironically, and he would never force himself to change anything if not for people surrounding him. There’s gratitude for that deep in his heart, but also dread, and bitterness of feeling so vulnerable.

He blinks away the tears, though he desperately wants to let them out with every feeling that keeps him caged. Making sure his eyes are not too glassy, Junmyeon looks back at Sehun, chills travelling up and down his spine. It’s alright. It has to be. He feels safe like this, with Sehun right beside.

"You're right. You always are," Junmyeon says, a bit bitterly, refusing to broach the subject.

"Junmyeon," Sehun smiles warmly. "I'm not saying this to make you feel bad. I want you to feel better."

Junmyeon sighs, completely not ready for this conversation. Will he ever be?

He should give it a try. Actually, he should’ve done that a long time ago, but definitely needed that push to do so. He got one from Sehun, a sign he doesn’t have to worry, that he won’t climb this mountain alone this time. The younger gives Junmyeon the comfort he needs, so there’s nothing holding him back from opening his heart, utterly _. Forever._

Junmyeon clears his throat, gathering all the courage, "I don't know if I can. Move on, I mean,” he says, anxiously pulling at Sehun’s hand entangled with his. “Tennis, my job, these are all I knew for quite some time, and how am I supposed to just let it go? How am I supposed to let something _new_ into my life, just like that?"

"You let _me_ in _._ You haven't known me before, and yet, here we are," Sehun lets his hand go, brushes Junmyeon’s hair away, so he could look the smaller man straight into his eyes, without any distractions. "You're not alone in that. I’m here for you."

Junmyeon lets his lips twitch into a small grin. Sehun always knows what to say, and Junmyeon took it as a sign of pure cockiness at first, but he quickly realized it was more than that. It was an indication that he cares. And Junmyeon cares too. Way too much.

He brings Sehun's hand away from his face, noticing the confusion in the younger’s eyes, but it’s replaced with something else when Junmyeon stays in his spot.

“I think… I think I can try,” Junmyeon stutters out.  
  
"Glad you do," Sehun says softly. "I really am."  
  
"And Sehun?"

"Hm?"

"I'm happy to have you close, but I can't believe you're younger and you constantly keep educating me."

Sehun snorts, jerking his head, motioning for Junmyeon to go back to the car, "It's not like you don't allow me. Guess you needed someone like me in your life."

They are walking slowly, hand by hand, heart by heart, not knowing personal space. Junmyeon looks around one last time, keeping a piece of Sehun's memory for himself.

"Yeah. Guess I needed _you_ ," Junmyeon whispers, almost inaudibly.

But Sehun hears it, revels in it, his dark eyes starry.  
  
The silence falls over them, carrying unspoken words. Junmyeon drops Sehun at his apartment, almost closing the distance between them as a goodbye, but he suddenly loses his courage _.  
  
_They share intense looks, a short touch of their hands, and Junmyeon regrets not saying, not doing more. Sehun doesn't do anything as well, giving Junmyeon the initiative, letting him pass the ball first. It’s not now, not yet, but soon he will be ready.

He leaves Sehun’s place, wordlessly promising to come back.

The drive to his house passes quickly, his thoughts fuzzy, mind blurry, heart bursting from his chest. Junmyeon will spend Sunday thinking of Sehun's words, of a new challenge, of changing his life for something new, something scary, yet definitely worth it.

Junmyeon knows that he won’t be alone on his journey. He has climbed the mountains without any help, but sometimes one needs someone to carry them through the toughest valleys of life. Sehun reached out to him, and together, they can reach even higher.

🎾

The weekend passes in a blur. Junmyeon sinks himself under the work he has to finish, occasionally taking breaks to let his mind wander to Sehun. Monday is a one big haze as well, filled with the reverberating sound of the keyboard and complaints of his co-workers.

Kyungsoo visits him with a coffee cup in his hand, and Junmyeon accepts it with a grin and a faint hug, surprising his friend.

“What’s with that sudden surge of affection? Aren’t you mad at me?” Kyungsoo quirks his brow, patting Junmyeon’s back.

“I _was_ ,” Junmyeon mumbles, leaning away. “I’m just happy now.”

Kyungsoo looks at Junmyeon curiously, his eyes burning a deep, itchy spot in his friend’s face, “Are you sick, or in love?” the man deadpans, and Junmyeon only smiles, simply shooing his friend away, enamour reeking of him.

Kyungsoo is never wrong when it comes to Junmyeon, after all.

🎾

The chicken place Junmyeon visits after work is full to the brim, but he waits patiently for his order since their food is undoubtedly the best in the whole area. After getting the heavenly smelling package in his hands, he drives straight to the other part of the city, not caring about the afternoon heat and traffic jam, usually getting on his nerves, yet not today.

Sehun opens the door with a huge grin plastered on his face, messily taking the boxes with food away, balancing them on his healthy arm until he can finally unpack them in the kitchen.

Junmyeon snorts, “Wow, nice to know you’re glad to see me.”

“I’m sorry, Jun, but this chicken smells so good I have to pay my full attention to it.”

“Beaten by the chicken,” Junmyeon says, dramatically shaking his head, throwing his shoes off while trying to loosen his tie at the same time.

After dealing with his office attire, he comes to the kitchen as well, sitting on the stool at the counter, letting his eyes wander to Sehun. The younger looks way healthier than when he saw him a few days before. His coppery hair is messy, the way Junmyeon likes it the most, and he promises himself to finally experience it under his fingertips, when he gets the courage to do so.

Even the cast on Sehun’s arm is less bleak in Junmyeon’s eyes. Recently everything has more colors.

“Wanna say I’m sorry, but I’m not,” Sehun winks. “After I devour it, you will have _all of_ me to yourself, don’t worry.”

The shorter man rolls his eyes, pink creeping onto his neck, luckily hidden behind the collar of his white shirt.

“As if I even wanted that in the first place,” Junmyeon huffs.

Sehun only laughs, letting the words slip, somehow managing to put a considerable amount of honey chicken on the plate prepared for Junmyeon using only one hand.

The younger focuses on biting his food in big chunks, shoving the chicken into his mouth, and Junmyeon realizes that Sehun is a _very_ messy eater. He catches all of those small things every time they meet, noting them down in his private notebook somewhere on the back of his mind.

Junmyeon can’t help feeling amused, as the instructor is always saying such wise words, always looking deadly serious among others, yet in the confines of his private space, comfortable in Junmyeon’s presence, he seems to still act like a boy. Junmyeon's heart is rich with pure endearment towards the man in front of him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Sehun asks, swallowing the food.

“Like what?”

“Like you wanna eat me instead of that chicken.”

“I’m not,” Junmyeon shrugs, but lets his gaze fall in embarrassment, eating his portion, chewing slowly and thoroughly.

The younger mumbles, “Liar.”

Junmyeon’s eyes don’t drift to Sehun anymore. He catches the younger staring at him instead.

They finish the food quite quickly, even though Sehun can’t stop himself from remarking on Junmyeon being the slowest eater possible. The older brushes it off, washing down the chicken taste with mint tea, sticking out his tongue like a kid. That starts yet another bickering duel between them, expanding even to the moment when they wash the dishes and settle onto Sehun’s couch.

Junmyeon almost throws a cushion at Sehun mocking him all this time, but stops himself last minute, remembering about the broken arm.  
  
When they suddenly lack words, Sehun moves closer to Junmyeon, almost so close that the smaller can feel Sehun’s breath tickling his face. Junmyeon doesn’t move away this time, swallowing harshly, cold sweat spilling all over his back. He regrets not taking his blazer off earlier.

Sehun acts as if he can read Junmyeon's mind, giving his sleeve a pull, helping Junmyeon get rid of the clothing. They look at each other intensely, passionately, affectionately. The older one tries to roll the sleeves of his shirt up, but before he can do it properly, Sehun tugs at his loosened tie, pulling him towards himself. Their noses brush, tips ticklish, the heat of their bodies unbearable.

“I like you,” Sehun murmurs, smiling at Junmyeon’s lips.

“I— You’re doing it again,” Junmyeon deadpans, putting both of his legs on the couch seat; he weirdly half-crouches, resting his hands against the soft surface, trying to keep his balance, still in Sehun’s hold.

“What?”

“Making me flustered. I have never… I have never felt this way before,” his voice shudders. “I don’t like it.”

Sehun grins slyly, “You like me, though.”

“You can’t be sure,” Junmyeon catches Sehun’s breath, warm and minty.

“Should we check, then?”

“C-Check?”

The younger man doesn't answer, pulling Junmyeon by the tie swinging on his neck. Junmyeon almost falls onto Sehun, but he miraculously keeps his stance, kneeling on the sofa in front of the other man.

Their lips brush, shyly at first, more confident a moment later, turning into heated, sloppy, wet kisses. Sehun lies down, Junmyeon moving with him, careful not to damage Sehun’s arm in the cast.  
  
Junmyeon’s mind feels pleasurably empty, not looking for any reasons, any answers, simply letting him enjoy the unexpected closure. It’s something Junmyeon wanted since he realized he looks at Sehun as someone _more_ than he initially thought.

Their lips don’t part, letting their tongues explore, clashing their teeth, hungry of _more._ Junmyeon clutches Sehun in a hasty embrace with his legs, propping his body on his hands on the both sides of Sehun’s head. One of his palms finds its way into the copper locks, brushing them with affection, pulling at the ends softly, granting Junmyeon better access to Sehun’s lips.

Their make out session lasts for a while, until both of them almost lose their breaths. The smaller man leans back, trying not to push his body on Sehun’s too much in the position they are in, for _obvious_ reasons. Their lower parts keep brushing, though, and it seems nothing could stop them from expressing how they feel.  
  
Sehun rests his hand on Junmyeon’s waist, delicately massaging the spot through the shirt, and the older is ready to throw the piece of clothing away just to feel the motion directly on his skin.

Sehun is lying beneath Junmyeon as meek as a lamb, eyes glossy, hair tousled into a coppery mess. There is no other man more beautiful than him, no scent sweeter than Sehun’s, and no taste more delicious than his lips. Sehun is the most beautiful trophy of Junmyeon’s life, the only one that mattered, worth more than anything else.

He is ready to take it all, but then Junmyeon glances at Sehun’s damaged arm, and something shifts in him.

“You’re uncomfortable. We shouldn’t—"

Sehun interrupts him, gently squeezing Junmyeon’s side, “Shh, it’s okay. I don’t care.”

“But I do,” Junmyeon purses his brows, letting his hazy mind decide for him. “I don’t want to… go further than this.”

He blushes the deepest red after that. Sehun scans the shorter man with his dark pupils, suddenly laughing hysterically, covering his mouth with his hand, leaving the smaller man on top of him.  
  
Junmyeon is timid, cheeks flushed, and he takes Sehun’s palm away from his face, unveiling white teeth and swollen, shiny lips. Their fingers find each other, pressing, interlacing.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean it _that_ way. I want to make love to you, can't say I don't, but… I don’t want you to be in pain, that's why. And also— Nevermind.”

“Oh, Jun,” the younger lets his hand go, caressing Junmyeon’s thigh, up and down, gently. “What’s wrong?”

Junmyeon inhales, looks away, his gaze focusing somewhere on the black screen of the flat TV hanging across the room. There’s an inside battle with himself as an opponent deep in his heart, as he’s not sure whether he should tell Sehun about his worries or not.  
  
He’s embarrassed, something very likely to happen in Sehun's presence, but they have already reached a moment where Junmyeon shouldn’t be afraid of speaking out his thoughts, not when they are so close, both mentally and _physically._

Sehun’s hand doesn’t stop its comforting movement, actually not giving Junmyeon any comfort at all, rather causing his arousal to heat up underneath his skin. After the younger whispers his name with longing and concern, Junmyeon looks Sehun straight into his eyes once again, the warmth of the radiating emotion closing in on him.

“I just— Didn’t really… every time I got _closer_ with someone it ended up with me parting ways with that person, and… it was never out of pure feelings, always so random, and I don’t want that happening to _us.”_

The younger smiles tenderly, “It won’t happen to us, because I like you, and you like me, right? What could go wrong? We won’t just suddenly pretend we don’t know each other. I won’t leave you after that.”

 _A lot._ A lot could go wrong, but Junmyeon can’t deny Sehun’s words in the slightest, not when he knows it’s the truth, and that Sehun is the first person he has ever truly liked in _that_ way.

“I never really loved anyone,” Junmyeon admits shyly. “I never allowed myself to. I don’t know how it works. I’m clueless.”

Sehun pulls Junmyeon by his tie once again, their mouths as close as before, maybe even closer. And Junmyeon wants to taste the taller man, wants to feel him with his whole body, wants them to become one.

“Don’t worry, Jun. There’s two of us in this. Told you I won’t leave you alone,” the younger leaves a small kiss on Jumyeon’s lips. “We don’t have to move further if you’re not sure about it. It’s enough you’re here with me.”

The smaller one nods, not saying anything.  
  
“Hey. I promised to help you feel better, and I will,” Sehun smiles.

Junmyeon almost cries. He doesn’t deserve Sehun. Doesn't deserve all the good things that keep happening to him, all the good people that seem to care.  
  
He is such a troubled man, yet somehow, he is able to find someone awfully kind on his way, someone who would make him better, someone who could finally let him move on, who would make him feel like he matters, like he deserves _love._ It feels like a prize for keeping up for so long. Like reaching the top of the highest mountains.

Junmyeon doesn’t know what to say, so he puts all of his feelings into the move of his lips against Sehun’s, into the roll of his hips, causing the younger to gasp for air.  
  
It’s messy, unbelievably uncomfortable on the small couch, but their bodies find each other, find their rhythm, the rhythm of two hearts beating with affection and care. They are touching each other, love dripping off their fingers, even if it couldn’t be formed by words.

Junmyeon has never thought that Sehun can be so vulnerable, so responding, his voice so low when he moans underneath him. Junmyeon’s name is leaving Sehun’s mouth every few seconds, accompanied by various endearments, and Junmyeon has never felt so good, even though they don’t move past stroking each other and brushing their bodies together.

They are panting, coming together, a small body falling on top of a taller one, breaths quickened. Their lips look for one another like they belong together, bodies buzzing with suffocating emotions, with the promise of _more_ , deep within them.

Sehun’s eyes find Junmyeon’s. The younger grins vibrantly, sweat trailing down his forehead. Both of their hairstyles are tousled, damp from the warm air and the hotness released from their bodies, ruffled by possessive fingers. If it’s even possible, Sehun is even more breathtaking like that.

“You okay there?” Sehun asks, closing his eyes at Junmyeon’s touch.

“Never been better,” Junmyeon manages to say, snuggling into Sehun’s chest, both of their bodies sticky. “Thank you.”

The younger chuckles, “Never seen someone so grateful after making out. Hell, I can only imagine how you would thank me if we—”

“Sehun.”

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” Sehun kisses Junmyeon’s temple. “Come on, we can wash up and cuddle in my bed.”

Junmyeon nods reluctantly, not eager to move from his comfortable position, but then he suddenly grumbles, remembering it’s Monday evening and he is still in his suit, crushing Sehun's broken arm with his body in addition to that.  
  
He decides to sit up after all, getting off from the couch, hoping for some miracle to come.

“I don’t have any clothes for tomorrow,” he says, rubbing his hands against his face, anxious.

“Go in this suit. Everyone will know what you did last night,” the younger is content with his remark, Junmyeon not so much.

“You’re annoying.”

“I am. But you like me for that.”

Junmyeon scowls at him, but Sehun only grins, content, full of life, of beautiful emotions. Junmyeon’s heart has never been beating faster.  
  
He helps Sehun stand up as well, pulling him close, leaving sloppy kisses on the taller’s jaw, tiptoeing to reach him. Everything feels awfully right.

Maybe love exists after all. It isn’t amiss to feel that way. Junmyeon sees only now how wrong he was thinking that there’s no feeling that could make him this blissful. Nothing could compare to being in Sehun’s arms, hugged by the comfort of his body, not even the most important match he would ever win, the most ancitipated praise he would get.

After all that time, Junmyeon understands that people could exaggerate, joke around, say various things that might never be true, but it’s not what is the most important. What matters is to find that one person that would make it all vanish when you’re with them, make you feel loved despite the malicious world.  
  
Junmyeon believes that’s the man in front of him. That no matter what happens, Sehun will help him go through it with his head held up high.  
  
Sehun is always honest, always saying what he thinks, sometimes painfully so, finally making him feel like someone is treating him seriously. And that's exactly what he needed.  
  
Junmyeon didn’t change his mind about his life over one night. He processed everything thoroughly. And maybe for some it’s too rushed, or maybe too slow, but they have their own pace, their own way, their own mountains to climb.

“Stop thinking, Jun,” Sehun nudges him with his elbow.  
  
“I’m not.”

“You are,” the taller says nonchalantly, his hand on Junmyeon's neck, playing with the short hair on his nape. "Now, let’s shower."

“Yeah. Sure,” Junmyeon answers, squirming from the ticklish sensation.

“So it’s not a stupid idea this time?"

Junmyeon pecks Sehun’s lips and shakes his head, smiling. There are no words that could explain how he feels, so he drags Sehun to the bathroom, not forgetting to kiss him a few times more along the way.

🎾

The bits of sunlight are biting Junmyeon’s bare arms, cradling him as he thoroughly struggles to cover himself with sunscreen. Summer is long gone, autumn stepping into its place, and yet the sun is as burning and annoying as ever. Junmyeon is wondering why he decided to choose such a warm climate to lead his life in, out of all.

"I hate the sun," Junmyeon huffs, frowning behind his mirrored sunglasses.

"You do?"

"I do,” the smaller man pouts at the taller one sitting next to him on a sand-covered towel, a beautiful view of the ocean unveiling in front of them. “I hate sweating, I hate being forced to drink so much water, I hate when it's extremely hot here. I just... hate it."

“That’s a big deal,” Sehun snorts, leaning back so the sunlight can kiss his face.

“Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not. Just wondering why we came here in the first place if you hate being exposed to the heat,” Sehun says. “Not that I’m complaining, seeing you in those trunks is worth your whining.”

“Oh, shut up! It’s all because Kyungsoo and Jongin wouldn’t let us live if we didn’t finally come here with them,” Junmyeon motions the pair splashing each other in the water.

Sehun follows the gesture of his boyfriend’s hand, curtly waving at Jongin shouting something at them.

Junmyeon ignores everything around him, finishes his diligent work and passes the suncream to Sehun, but the younger catches the tube along with Junmyeon’s hand, pulling him close, making him squeak.  
  
Junmyeon’s glasses fall off his nose and land somewhere between them, the naughty, dry sand sticking to the shorter’s skin as he tries to rescue himself from Sehun’s sudden attack.

“I just covered my body in cream and you’re pushing me into the sand!”

"We will clean you up later,” Sehun says, tickling Junmyeon’s nose with his own. “Hm, but thinking of what you said… If you hate the sun so much, then it feels as if you hate me as well. Since I’ve been more or less on your mind the whole summer this year, and I light up your life, don't I?"

Junmyeon’s heart beats inexplicably fast and loud in his chest as his eyes wander over Sehun’s face, his tanned skin, chocolate eyes. Junmyeon could deny many things in his life, could bicker, and joke, and exaggerate. But he would never pretend he can’t feel the butterflies, the fluttering _love_ spilling all over him. Not anymore.

"No. You can be my only sun, and my only summer for the rest of our days," Junmyeon says, his voice soft.

"That's a brave thing to say. You will never get rid of me, baby."

Sehun heaves a small sigh, joy evident in his eyes, in every stroke of his fingers on Junmyeon’s flushed cheek. And Junmyeon can’t help but smile, beam at Sehun with his whole body, kissing him tenderly on the lips in a quick motion.

"Maybe I don't want to,” he whispers against Sehun’s lips. “I want you to be my summer, my autumn, my winter, and my spring.”

"You're so sappy, Jun,” Sehun smiles, their lips brushing each other again. “That’s a lot of weight on my shoulders, but I think I will manage.”

Junmyeon rolls his eyes, casting fingers through Sehun’s coppery hair, highlighted into a whole palette of pretty shades due to the sun’s work, “With you every day is like a tennis day."

"A tennis day?" Sehun asks, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"The best day of the week. The only day that mattered to me.”

Sehun smiles, a bit sadly, a whirlwind of emotion crossing his face, "I love you."

"I love you too,” Junmyeon answers, a bit shyly, still not used to those words.

"Can't believe you turned into such a soft man. You used to be so tough."

"I still am."

"Here in my arms, and in my eyes, you're soft," Sehun lifts up Junmyeon’s chin, leaving a trail of kisses on his jaw.

Junmyeon shudders, letting out a silent moan, gripping the towel as the excitement runs through his body, careful not to lean on Sehun and crash his arm.

"Wanna challenge me again on the court to see me in a different light?" he pants, and the younger leans away, looking in Junmyeon’s eyes.

"So you will lose again against your _enemy_?"

"Please. I let you win then," Junmyeon snickers.

“We will see if you let me win later, in my bedroom,” Sehun whispers in Junmyeon’s earlobe, brushing the sensitive skin with his soft lips.

They both catch their breaths somewhere along their way to be released, basking in the heat, in the alluring warmth of their bodies.

“Hey, you two! Come here to the water, that’s disgusting!” one of their friends shouts, and Junmyeon doesn't even register to whom that voice belongs, too immersed in Sehun’s presence.

“Coming,” Sehun answers loudly, averting his gaze to the ocean. “They’re so annoying, I swear I’ll push them both into the deepest waters.”

Junmyeon giggles, “Be careful with your arm.”

Sehun nods at that and stands to his feet with Junmyeon’s small help. Junmyeon is about to leave his sitting position as well, but he stops, trailing his eyes over the tall figure teasingly shaking his hips while walking.

Junmyeon lets the sudden gust of pleasurable wind engulf him, swallow him whole, thicker than ever, solid, sliding against his skin, his pinkish cheeks.  
  
He loves Sehun, swelling with affection, enamoured to the bones, cursed with his luring spell.  
  
He loves the kisses, cuddling in Sehun’s bed, their bickering, their discussions, their silence, their stupid arguments, heated make out sessions. He loves when Sehun pulls him into an embrace, when he simply looks at him, when their fingers lace into a perfect whole.

Junmyeon is not the same person anymore. Now he and Sehun are one. And even though it was never in his plans, even though his way to the imaginary top has been interrupted, he doesn't regret anything.  
  
Junmyeon could walk past the hurdles and reach his mountains, alone, determined. Yet he stopped somewhere, halfway through, and let himself be drawn to a different feeling, to the unknown. And he stayed there, and will stay forever, finding a new home, a new life, finding respect, and care, and affection. All of that in Sehun’s arms.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you reached the end, I'm forever indebted to you. Really.
> 
> It's my first story this long and honestly... I have absolutely no idea what I've done here shfsfsds!! I really love tennis, and one day that certain prompt of a tennis themed seho fic popped up in my mind, evolved over time, and well, this happened. I really hope you like it! It took me _months_ to write this and I wanted to quit more times than I remember,, I owe a big thank you to my bestest friend and number one supporter B. who was listening to my whining and breakdowns over this fic and was always ready to read some bits and carry me through the whole writing process. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, kudos and comments are _very_ appreciated. Share all your thoughts with me, please :3


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